The Hungry Pokemon Games
by Windflicker
Summary: Every year, 24 tributes are forced to fight to the death in the Hungry Pokemon Games. But when President Harmonia sends in his own son N, he gets more than he bargained for. After all, friendship and love have no place in the Games... PokeSpe characters.
1. Chapter One

_Author's Note:_

Hello there! If you couldn't tell by the summary, this is a sort of Pokemon, mostly PokeSpe, version of _The Hunger Games_, featuring the main characters of the manga and some from the games in the world of Panem. It's not going to very closely follow the plot of _The Hunger Games_, if at all, and it will in fact more similar to the plot of _Catching Fire_ if anything, taking some elements from both. There will also be an arc similar to that of _Mockingjay_. Much original plot will therefore ensue, though many characters, events, and objects will have direct counterparts. I already have pretty much all of the counterparts lined up, including who comes from which district, and I already have a plan for this, so trust me, I know where this is going! Stay with me, and hopefully you'll enjoy the ride. :)

Much thanks goes to DainoChild, for inspiring me with her awesome fic Red Potter (which you should totally read, if you haven't already), reading over my chapters, and running through this crazy idea with me. She is seriously an awesome person.

Warning: There will obviously be some character deaths in this, and also some M/M pairings. Also, I didn't put this fic in the crossover section because every single character will be a Pokemon character, with none from the actual Hunger Games books. And the plot will be pretty different.

Before I go on, N wants you to know that he says, "GUYS I'M KING OKAY SO GIVE ME GOOD REVIEWS!" and cries sparkly tears for you. So listen to N. He's king.

So without further ado, Happy Hungry Pokemon Games, and I hope you enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter One**

"Sire, you cannot be serious about this."

The cape billowed behind him, jewels and patterns catching the sunlight and glittering with purple and yellow as President Harmonia turned, a smile already snaking across his pallid face. The scent of roses filled the air around him, and for a moment, Sage Bronius wrinkled his nose before remembering his place and bowing his head before the president. Ghetsis Harmonia would not take kindly to any signs of disgust, if he noticed.

"Ah, but I am." As Bronius watched, he could swear that Ghetsis's eye patch glistened when he smiled, white as the perfect, surgically altered squares of his teeth, each of their edges sharpened to an atom's width. Or at least, that was what it looked like. He shuddered, trying to hide the motion underneath his cloak.

"It's his time, Bronius. It's about time he was put to the test. The…_final_ test," Ghetsis said, and a hint of shadow fell over his face.

Bronius looked up at the rays of sunlight streaming through the canopy of the president's rose garden, birds chirping pleasantly through the trees overhead. He watched Ghetsis's pale fingers as he picked at the stems of a rose on the bush nearby, stroking the petals lovingly and twisting their way around the thorns, skillfully avoiding their pricks. He saw the white petals drifting down toward the ground and opened his mouth, tentatively wetting his lips.

"Sire…I…I know that the rebellion…" Bronius swallowed. No, that wouldn't do; he would have to choose his words more carefully. "Or what the districts _think_ is a rebellion…must be stopped as soon as possible…but does this use of the child…the boy…not seem like a little…" The Sage swallowed, his mustache drooping over his chin as he dipped his head forward. "…_too_ cruel of a way to…to subdue the citizens of Panem?"

"But not at all, Bronius. Think about it, my dear Sage. He at least has a chance this way." The sneer curled further across the pale face, the worn, chiseled chin tapering into a point. Ghetsis's tone sounded almost amused, Bronius noticed with a chill, as if he were toying with him, toying with the boy's fate.

His own son…could he go so far? Would he? Bronius sneaked a glance at him; Ghetsis seemed unperturbed, smiling down at the flowers in an almost sickeningly childish way as he stroked their spines. For a moment, Bronius could see the barest flash of his son's features in his face. N. He pictured him in his mind's eye: the same pale skin, the green hair curling down his back. But the eyes—the eyes were different. Where there was only cold, steely green in his father's, N's wavered with a vulnerable blue, with something that more resembled emotion where in Ghetsis's, there was none.

Bronius shook the thought out of his mind when Ghetsis spoke again, the slow drawl of his voice rolling over him like a lazy gust of wind.

"The odds are, at least, more in his favor than they could be, if we chose to simply…dispose of him. One out of twenty-four is better than zero, after all, is it not?"

"Y-yes…I suppose so."

Bronius swallowed. It was true, he reasoned. If N won…well, it was unlikely, knowing the boy, and he didn't know what Ghetsis would do if it _did_ happen, but he at least had a chance of winning, right? Still, what would the Capitol citizens say? They never blinked an eye at the Hungry Pokemon Games, but that was because it was the kids from the districts. Now, not only was it a Capitol child, but the child of the _president_ himself. What if it was too much for even them to stomach? He licked his lips.

"But…won't the people of Panem question your actions, sire? Won't they wonder—and perhaps even protest—why the President is…sending his own son into the Hungry Pokemon Games?"

"Ah, but doesn't that make for an even better show?" The cape swept across the ground like a shadow as Ghetsis turned again, smirking over his shoulder. "Think, Bronius. Use your mind; use those impeccable gifts of wisdom that made you a Sage in the first place." In a single, deft motion, he plucked a petal from the rose and let it flutter to the ground, where it lay, white, only a shade paler than his skin. "That is what will destroy them most of all. When they see that the Games are such a force…such an inescapable power, a rule to this land…that even the president's own son is not exempt…that we are willing to even make the ultimate sacrifice for the good of Panem…then they will understand." He stepped forward, hovering his foot over the petal, and then brought it down on the flower, grinding it into the ground with his shoe. "That we will stop. At. Nothing."

Bronius tore his eyes away from the crushed petal and stared into the distant entwined branches, thinking, as Ghetsis had told him to. Twenty-five tributes this year. Like some kind of Quarter Quell. A variation, to punish the districts even further. To punish the Capitol. To punish them…with their own sympathies, because N would certainly win those. He lowered his head, and nodded. Ghetsis was right. The Games would go on. It was the best way, the way to show the districts that the Capitol meant what they said. And would not go back on their word, even when it was one of their own.

"Your genius never ceases to amaze me, sire."

"I know." Ghetsis didn't need to look up; Bronius could hear the smirk in his voice.

"But the boy…" he started, and the president shook his head with a dismissive snort.

"I will speak to him. Don't waste your energy worrying about _him_."

Bronius opened his mouth, and then closed it and nodded. "Yes, sire."

He felt rather than saw the shadow closing in on him as Ghetsis dropped the rose in his hand paced toward him, steps sending dull, wooden thunks across the ground. He heard his bated breath over him, smelled the blood and roses, felt his hand coming down to pat him on the head. "You're a good Sage, Bronius."

"Thank you, sire."

"Water my roses now, will you?" Ghetsis asked with a grin, and then, with another twirl of his cape and a fresh wave of blood-scent, he was gone.

* * *

N was sitting on the carpet in his room when Ghetsis found him, perched on his knees and playing with his toy trains for what had to be at least the thousandth time since he had been a toddler. Somehow, he still managed to find amusement in it, smiling down with wide eyes and making quiet "Vroom!" noises under his breath. Behind him, Zorua batted a colorful ball around between its paws, watching it roll up and down the yellow ramp.

Ghetsis rolled his eyes. How pathetic. Maybe it _was_ a bad idea to send him into the Games this year—only because he would _die_ too fast for it to have any impact on the districts.

"N," he said, sweeping his cloak around him as he entered. No need to waste any flowery words of greeting on the boy.

The effect was immediate: N dropped the train he was holding and dropped back on his knees, stiffening and straightening his back like a board. Wide, eager blue eyes stared up at him as N smoothed down the wrinkles in his brown pants. A curl of tea-green hair had escaped from his ponytail and was twisting back and forth around his cheek, the cheekbone the same chiseled shape as Ghetsis's.

"D-Daddy."

Ghetsis stepped forward and kicked at the trains with a clog, barely suppressing a sneer as they toppled over. "What are you doing, N? Playing with the trains again?"

"Y-yes…"

"We're not from District 6, you know. There's no Battle Subway. There are better things to be doing here in the Capitol."

N lowered his head, and Ghetsis could see from the lurch of his Adam's apple that he was fighting back tears. He could hardly keep the corner of his mouth from curling into a scowl. How pathetic. How _could_ this boy come from the same blood as he did?

"S-sorry, Daddy. I can put them away—" The boy started to rise, but Ghetsis waved him aside.

"No need. I have something important to talk to you about today."

"Really?" It was almost laughable how quickly N sat back on his haunches again, the eager light returning to his eyes. The boy was practically bouncing on his toes. "What is it, Daddy?"

Ghetsis closed his eyes for a moment, letting the pause drag on dramatically.

"You know about the Hungry Pokemon Games, don't you, N?"

"What? Of course I do, Daddy!" Now N really _was_ bouncing up and down, his eyes shining with recognition. "What is it about them? Do I get to see the Pokemon? Do I get to feed them again?"

Ghetsis couldn't keep himself from grinning. _In a way_.

He shook his head. "No, not today, N. Today is an even more special day. This _year_ is going to be a special year. Especially for you."

If N's eyes widened any more, they were going to bulge out of his head. He was already starting to look like an Armaldo. It wasn't very attractive, Ghetsis thought nastily. "What is it?"

"Ah…well, N, this year…"

Ghetsis bent down, his cape pooling around him, so that the tips of his hair brushed his son's, mingling and entwining like the tentacles of a Tentacruel. N raised his head eagerly to meet his, and Ghetsis allowed himself one brush along the boy's cheek with his finger, watching with satisfaction as his eyes lit up with the motion. It was always enough to keep him going, what Ghetsis gave him. He always gave him enough hope to keep him hanging on, fingers tugging at the bottom of his robe, scrabbling for his attention, desperate for his love. For things he was never going to have. Ghetsis let his lips spread into a smile, the kindly smile he had perfected, full of a father's affection.

"This year…you're going to be in the Hungry Pokemon Games yourself."

He pulled back and watched the mix of emotions play over the boy's face with a deep, thrumming sense of pleasure: first the confusion swimming in the blue, then the shock, the way they snapped open for a moment, blank and static, and then the realization, the questions brimming behind his eyes. But never once did Ghetsis see that look that he loved so much to watch: the look on someone's face when they lose all hope. And that, Ghetsis knew, was because N didn't realize that he was sending him to his death.

N sat back, something that looked almost like a curtain of gauze seeming to tumble down and glaze over the blue.

"Me…I'm going to be in the Games?" he asked, very slowly, drawing his knees up to his chest.

"Yes, N. You."

"But I thought…I thought that was only the districts."

"It is, N. But Daddy can make exceptions. You know I can. Special exceptions."

N hesitated. "Does that mean I get to make friends with the Pokemon?" he asked carefully, wrapping his arms around his knees.

_Why not_, Ghetsis thought with an inward snort. He could indulge him and his stupid fantasies while the boy was still here. "Yes, N. You'll be in the arena with the Pokemon. You can…make friends with them, or whatever you want."

N nodded slowly, his eyes focused on something in the distance, mulling over what Ghetsis had told him. Behind him, Zorua had stopped playing. It was watching them, now, studying them carefully with its warm turquoise eyes as the ball in its paws rolled to the floor. For some reason, the look it gave him, so oblivious yet so full of apprehension, sent a shiver up Ghetsis's spine. Tearing his gaze away from the Pokemon's, he knelt down next to his son, laying a hand on his shoulder.

"Think about it, N. This is for the glory of the Capitol! You show the districts what you can do. What the Capitol can do, compared to them. And it will all be you, my son. You who wins this glory for us. For Panem."

N bit his lip and stayed still for a very long time. Ghetsis didn't take his eyes off him. When the boy finally opened his mouth, his eyes were cloudy, unreadable.

"I'm not going to die, am I?"

Ghetsis let his mouth break into a smile again, patting the boy's shoulder. "Of course not, N. Why would you say that? Would I let that happen to you?"

N paused, eyes brimming, and then shook his head. "N-no. You're my daddy."

"Yes. I'm your daddy."

"And you love me."

"Yes. And I love you."

"Okay." N unwrapped his arms from his legs and let them fall to the sides, stretched his legs out in front of him. They were long, Ghetsis saw, longer than he had remembered. Had N grown so much already? Almost no longer a child, now, almost a man. It was right to send him in, now, Ghetsis thought. He was at the age when he could…when there was a risk, a remote one, but it existed…a risk that he could become too…out of control. He had been right, he thought again, satisfied with himself, right to send the boy into the arena. "Okay."

He leaned closer to his son, urging him forward. "Okay, what?"

"I'm going to make friends with the Pokemon." N's voice was strangely matter-of-fact, now. He was slipping into that strange emotionless daze that he went into sometimes, Ghetsis realized, reciting facts in his deadpan voice when things were too much for him to process. The corner of his lip curled in distaste. "I'm going to feed the hungry Pokemon in the arena. And fight for the Capitol."

Ghetsis stood up, satisfied, glee rupturing and bursting through his chest. _See, Bronius_? It had been easy, as it always was. Too easy. The boy's mind was malleable, was his, his to control, his to feed and fill with whatever he wanted, bending it to his own will. And to think that some of the Sages thought N was a satisfactory heir. How pitiful. Sooner or later, the day would have come when he needed to dispose of him. Now was as good a time as any. He allowed himself a laugh, merry and hearty and echoing from the depths of his chest.

"That's my boy," he said, clapping his shoulder, the sound ringing out loud and clear against skin and the white fabric of his shirt. "I know you'll prove yourself worthy of the name Harmonia out there. Make me proud." He grinned, imagining the perfect, flashing white of his teeth. "Make Panem proud."

He turned to leave, sweeping his cape around him, but the voice, thin and reedy and vulnerable, stopped him.

"Daddy?"

Ghetsis froze in his tracks. "Yes?"

"You're not going to hurt the Pokemon, are you?"

"No, N," he answered. "I won't hurt the Pokemon."

N nodded. "Okay. Okay, then."

"No need to worry," Ghetsis repeated, letting the smirk slide over his face as he turned around again and paced out of the childish room and away from his childish little son. "I won't lay a finger on them."

_Only you, N. Only you_.

* * *

When Blue woke up that morning, Blasty was staring at her with wry, reproachful eyes. For a moment, she raised an eyebrow at him, wondering what in the world he could possibly be admonishing her for. It couldn't be how she had slipped that _one_ fish into her pocket from the dock the day before without giving a coin to the fishmonger, could it? Not that she was beyond reproach—she'd be the first to admit it—but it wasn't like he ever had much to say about her…frequent borrowing of other people's things. And it wasn't like she had been doing much of it recently. She had gotten better; she really had. She had been trying to be a better person. So what could it be?

And then she remembered.

"Today's the day of the reaping, isn't it?" she groaned, brown hair spilling over her pillow as she rolled over. "Great. Well, isn't that just _wonderful_. Better get up and get this over with, then."

"Blaaaaast." She could hear the dread in Blasty's voice, and beyond it, the hint of laughter buried in his gravelly tones. Blue couldn't help but smile. He wasn't reproaching _her_ for anything, after all.

"Oh, be quiet, you old turtle, you." She rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out at him. "Anyway, there's not much we can do now, except to pretty up for the ceremony."

Blue swung her legs over the edge of the bed and climbed onto the floor, pushing the covers aside. Making her way over to the window, she drew the curtains aside and gazed at the view of District 4. Outside, alongside some of the lesser docks that she could see from the view of the back bay, where her cottage lay, on the cliffs, rocks jutted out from the shore, their rough, almost black surfaces shining with water, reaching for the ocean like angry fingers. Waves lapped at the shore as if returning the attack, their tips grazed with the pale golden sunshine of the morning.

Blue turned away and took from her dresser an aquamarine tank top and a red skirt, complete with silken legwarmers for the chilly morning. She pulled on her outfit and flashed a winning smile into the mirror by her bed, stained and weathered with salt and brine. Perfect. Remembering, she snatched her hat from her dresser, white with a red ring around the brim, and perched it on her head. Her smile had faltered when she turned back toward the mirror. Or at least, it was as perfect as it could be on the day of the reaping.

"Oh. And. A final touch," she said with a wink as she fastened a blue ribbon around Blasty's ears, winning a snort and a roll of his eyes.

Blue grinned back at him. She had found Blasty as a Squirtle almost two years ago, washed up on the beach one morning when she went down to fish with the others. He had been turned on his shell and was kicking his arms and legs, struggling to right himself. Smiling to herself, she had grabbed the poor Pokemon and set it right side-up on its legs, and instead of heading back into the ocean like she had expected, like she had urged him to do, even picking up the Pokemon and setting him into the foamy water, the Squirtle had followed her home.

Since no one else lived with her and he refused to go back to the ocean, she had let him stay with her and named him Blasty. Blasty helped her with her fishing, helped her zip through the water, quiet and powerful, with his sleek jets propelling them forward, faster than any Magikarp or Goldeen, or even the rare Seaking, that swam by. He would catch them between his teeth, snapping his jaws shut with a fierce grin, while Blue would propel herself forward and impale them on the end of her spear. The two of them made a far better team than she ever had on her own, even with the other fishers who helped each other, setting traps with their nets and hooks and moving in to spear them. Squirtle came from the water, after all, and it showed.

They helped each other: Blasty with the day's required amount of fish, and Blue with giving him a place to stay away from the predators in the ocean—the Sharpedo with their gnashing teeth and the poisonous stings of the Tentacruel. And, best of all, she had helped him evolve, something he couldn't have done on his own.

Most days, after the day's work was done, bathed in the orange glow of sunset, they would train on the beach of the back bay by her cottage, finding small Shellder and Krabby that had washed up on the shore to battle, and, on brighter days, swimming into the water to battle Horsea and Tentacool after Blue grabbed her goggles. Sometimes, they found the occasional evolved Pokemon, which hit harder, faster, and chills of excitement would trickle down her spine. Those battles were always her favorite: a challenge. In fact, every battle sent adrenaline racing through her veins. Pokemon battling was illegal; President Harmonia had outlawed it the moment he stepped into office. But Peacekeepers never cared to watch the back bay, especially at dusk, so Blue and Blasty were safe. Or so she hoped. They made sure to stay close to the cliff that jutted out overhead into the ocean so they could hide in case they were seen, but so far, it had never been a problem. Even if they were caught, Blue could always say that she was taking her Pokemon for a stroll. People did own Pokemon as pets, whether they were strays they had found or ones paid for by some of the richer families.

One day, after a battle with a rare Staryu, a silvery glow had begun to radiate from his cool blue skin like a fallen ray of moonlight, and Blue had backed away, startled, her footsteps sloshing in the water. She had covered her eyes as the light brightened, searing white and then a pale shade of aqua, and almost cried out when Blasty's body began to change shape. It must be a trick of the light, she had thought, as his ears lengthened and his shell swelled up and his tail curled and bloomed behind him, like foam from the ocean itself. And then, as quickly as it had begun, the light had faded, leaving behind a bigger, meaner-looking Pokemon, complete with claws and ears: a Wartortle.

"B-Blasty?" she had stammered, stepping forward cautiously. "Is that you?"

For a moment, the Wartortle said nothing. And then it looked at her, and the mischievous gleam flickered in its eyes, and it raised his new, strong paws in the air with a grin of triumph.

"Blaaaast!"

From that day on, they had trained even harder, venturing deeper into the ocean to seek out stronger opponents, now that he was stronger. They didn't run from the evolved Pokemon anymore, not even from the ones with stingers and teeth and claws to aid them. Blue had gotten a scratch on her leg from a Kingler, once, and the next day, she had lied and told the other fishers she had scraped it against a patch of coral. But finally, after months of work, the glow had shimmered on his smooth skin again, and Blue had swum back and watched him with proud eyes as the little Squirtle she had found that day transformed into the mighty, hulking Blastoise she knew today.

Still, they kept training, though Blue didn't know why. What were they training for? What was there to ever fight against? Was it out of some crazy hope brimming in the corner of her mind that someday, she could use her Pokemon's powers to combat even the power of the Capitol? She shook her head, snorting. Just the thought of it was ridiculous.

One evening, they had been battling a ferocious-looking Kingler, when Blue heard footsteps behind her. She had almost broken her legs tripping over herself as she and Blasty ran under the shelter of the cliff, but it was too late. Ducking out from underneath the shadow of the rock, they saw a man heading their way, taking slow, deliberate steps through the sand, his hair white in the glow of the moonlight. For a moment, the swinging white coat around his legs sent a dart of fear up her throat; she had taken him for a Peacekeeper.

But instead, as he neared them, her breath caught in her throat when she saw that it the mayor, Mayor Samuel Oak, of all people, who came pacing down the beach, his lab coat swinging around him, his steps leaving deep, square shoeprints in the sand.

"It's all right, Blue," he had called out, when she had shrunk underneath the rock, terror shooting up her throat. "You can come out."

"M-Mr. Mayor?" Blue had whispered as she crawled out from under the shadow of the cliff with Blasty in tow, his lumbering footsteps heavy behind her, her voice much smaller than she was ever used to hearing it. She had been so sure she was doomed. "How…how do you know my name?"

"Blue." The mayor looked down, a wry smile twisting his normally austere features. "To tell the truth, I've been watching you for a while. Ever since I saw you fishing down at the main beach, you with that Pokemon." Blue had watched with surprise as he turned toward Blasty with a smile that softened his features and sent a kindly light dancing in his eyes, a smile almost like the kind you would give to an old friend upon seeing him for the first time after years. "Hello, Blasty."

"Blast…" Blasty edged forward, his dark eyes glimmering with uncertainty. Slowly, tentatively, he stretched out a glistening blue paw toward the mayor. "Blastoise…?"

"It's good to see you've grown so much, Blasty," the mayor said.

Blasty looked down at his own body. "Blast!" he said proudly, meeting the mayor's gaze. "Blast Blastoise!"

Blue looked from one face to the other, shocked. "What…Mayor Oak, you know him?"

Mayor Oak gave her a smile. "_Knew_ him, Blue, as a mischievous Squirtle who escaped from my lab one day. I looked for him everywhere, but it seemed I couldn't find him. It seemed he was lost. I'm glad to see that, in fact, he fell into good hands."

"Blasty was…yours?" Blue exclaimed, her mind racing. It made sense, then, why the Squirtle hadn't wanted to return to the ocean. He hadn't _come_ from the ocean. He had come from an egg, hatched and grown in Mayor Oak's lab.

Mayor Oak nodded. "He was. I was using him for research."

Everyone knew that before becoming mayor, Samuel Oak had been one of the most renowned Pokemon professors in Panem, a position and prestige that had in fact won him the position.

"But…but will you report me for…" Blue swallowed. "For…battling…"

"How do you think I level up my Pokemon, Blue?" he said quietly, his face as stern as ever, but Blue could swear she caught a flicker of a smile in his eyes.

She almost choked right then and there. The _mayor_. The mayor himself broke the law and battled Pokemon. Everyone said that he trained them by giving them Rare Candies, since the Oak family was rich enough to afford them, but he himself had admitted…

"W-well…if you need Blasty back…" she started, her thoughts choppy and crashing against the barriers of her mind, though the thought of parting with the Blastoise beside her made her stomach throb with a hollow ache. Throughout the months, they had become inseparable. It was as if he had always been by her side, as if she had never fished without him. As if she had never lived alone.

"On the contrary, Blue." Mayor Oak smiled. "In a matter of months, you've gotten him to evolve not once, but twice, all the way to his final stage. You've given him a home, and proven that you can take care of him. And moreover, you've proven your prowess…as a trainer."

_Trainer_. The word had rung in the air and curdled in the breeze like the scent of treason. Chills ran down Blue's spine. Trainer. It was a word that hadn't been used in ages, not since President Harmonia had come into power, not since Pokemon battling had become forbidden and taken on the stigma of terror and faded into a faint memory of the past. Yet the mayor had just said…

"And," Mayor Oak continued nonchalantly, as if he hadn't realized the weight of the word he had just spoken, "he hasn't tried to escape. I think you've more than proven that you can take care of him better than I can." He smiled, and it took Blue a moment to find her voice.

"Th-thank you so much, Mr. Mayor!" she choked out, relief sagging through her veins and making her weak. He wasn't going to arrest her. He wasn't going to take her to the Peacekeepers. Best of all, he wasn't going to take Blasty away from her. She had seen the mayor many times, on all of the major events in the district, but she had never spoken to him. Why was he helping her now?

"Mr. Oak will do," he said with a wink, and then he turned around and paced into the night. Blue saw his figure retreating back up the cliff, a white dot disappearing in the distance. Blasty had taken her arm and led her up the beach and back to the cottage where they stood, now, preparing to leave.

"We've been through a lot together," Blue told the Blastoise, looking into his eyes. He stared back at her out of twin pools of dark blue. "We can do this. It's just another year."

"Blas. Toise." Blasty nodded, his voice deep and matter-of-fact.

District 4's reaping ceremony began at ten in the morning every year, as one of the earliest reapings in Panem. They were staggered throughout the day so that the citizens of the Capitol could watch each one live, from District 1 all the way to District 12, though they didn't necessarily go in order by the district numbers. The cameras set up around the wooden planks of the square were hard to ignore.

Blue was glad, personally, for the time of their reaping. The more quickly they got the reaping over with, the better. She couldn't imagine living in a district where the wait dragged on all the way until the end of the day, couldn't imagine the dread churning and curdling in the people's stomachs all day while they went about their business, loathing what was inevitable to come. She glanced at the clock perched on her wall, built in the shape of a Clamperl; it was nine thirty. About time to get down to the main dock, where the square was located, in front of the Justice Building that the Capitol had built in every district, and where the ceremony took place.

"You ready?" she asked him, sucking in her breath and tugging at the hem of her skirt.

"Blast." Blasty nodded.

"Well, Happy Hungry Pokemon Games," she drawled in an exaggerated Capitol accent, tugging at his bow and fixing it with a wink, "and may the odds be ever in your favor!"

His wry chuckle echoed through the walls of the cottage as together, they made their way down the wooden stairs that were perpetually damp with seawater, girl and Pokemon, and set off.

It didn't take very long to walk up the cliffs and around to the main dock, located at the other side of the town. Blue avoided going through town, because the truth was, she didn't want to see them—the faces of the people trudging over to the ceremony, families huddling together with the futile wish to protect each other. She didn't want to see the grim set of their mouths, their reluctant footsteps digging deep into the sand, the fear of the twelve-year-old children who clung to their parents' arms on their first year nearly palpable on their faces.

And then there were the ones who offered a bizarre contrast to the solemnity of the rest: the teenagers, unusually bulked up and muscular compared to the rest of the people, who plunged forward with grins of determination, whooping and clapping each other on the back, as if through their encouragement they were trying to scrape by a few last scraps of training, building each other's toughness, showing no sign of fear to the outside world. The Career tributes, the people called them. In districts like 1, 2, and 4, people trained for the honor of fighting in the Hungry Pokemon Games and, odds were, winning. They volunteered at the reaping to take the place of those who were chosen with the hopes of winning glory for the district and a spot in the Victors' Village, with enough to eat and live in comfort, if not luxury, for the rest of their days. It made Blue uneasy, to a certain extent, that they would _want_ to enter the Games, but then again, they saved those who _were_ reaped at random. For that, she couldn't help but to be grateful to them.

She looped around instead, where there were a few stragglers coming from their houses, around the edge of the cliffs where tufts of grass and weeds sprang up between the rocks. Blue stopped as she mounted the crest of one of the cliffs. There. She placed a hand over her eyes to shield them from the slanting morning sunlight. Below, she could see the square spread out before her, people filing in from all sides, lining up to register with the Capitol and then arranging themselves by age as routine dictated every year. Cameras were stationed around the roofs of the shops and houses surrounding, peering at them with clear, steely lenses. The Justice Building loomed behind, white and square and imposing, and beyond it lay the docks and ships that stretched out into the harbor, meeting the rolling waves of the ocean.

Peacekeepers were stationed around the square in their ridiculous-looking uniforms, white with hard silver encasings around their arms and tight black cloth underneath. White cloth draped over their shoulders and flared both in front and back of them like a cape. A blue P was emblazoned on their chests against the background of a crest, black and white with a blue zigzag around the letter. P for Panem.

Blue curled her lip in distaste. No one had any great love for the Peacekeepers. Some people called them Panem's grunts, sent to do all the dirty work the president didn't want to do himself with his pale, pretty hands. Behind closed doors and in whispers, of course.

She turned her eyes to the stage, where Mayor Oak was already seated. He had switched out the lab coat he normally wore for a suit, crisp and gray. District 4 always did well in the Hungry Pokemon Games, so there were six victors seated next to him out of ten total. But everyone in the audience, she knew, was only staring at one of them.

Volkner Odair, with his golden hair and piercing blue eyes, was the legend of not only their district but of the Capitol and all of Panem, with his remarkable beauty, radiating from the sweeping angles of his face, in that chiseled jaw and the fine tones of his lean, athletic body. Volkner had won the Games ten years ago at the young age of fourteen, not only a Career, but helped by the sponsors who had all but salivated over his looks. They had given him food and medicine and weapons, and toward the end of the Games, they had pooled their money together to give him a silver trident, the most expensive weapon ever given to any tribute in the arena. It had been all over after that. Volkner had sailed home in victory, almost unharmed. His beauty certainly hadn't been marred. Even from a distance, Blue felt her stomach flutter at the sight of him.

Next to him, she recognized a few other victors: Bertha, who she guessed would be around eighty now, who had mentored Volkner the year he won. And then, a few seats down, there was Jasmine Cresta, with her pale, vacant eyes—the young, pretty, timid girl who had won only a few years ago. She had gone mad after the Games when she saw her fellow tribute decapitated in front of her eyes. She had only outlasted the others because the Gamemakers had flooded the arena, and she, being from District 4, could outlast the others in the water.

"Come on, Blasty," Blue sighed, shaking her head, and the two of them picked their way down the cliff and toward the square. She tried to empty her mind. Hungry Pokemon Games did not make pleasant memories.

At the entrance, she signed in and then settled into place next to the other sixteen-year-olds, toward the front of the square. People lined up by age at the reaping, with the eighteen-year-olds at the front and the twelve-year-olds at the back. Adults and younger children, along with their Pokemon, if they had any, clung to each other around the perimeter. Blasty gave her a solemn nod that Blue returned with a hug and then lumbered toward the back, where Blue saw him sit down next to a Poliwhirl and a Shellos, dwarfing them with his size.

Their escort, Misty Waterflower, sat next to the mayor as well, fresh from the Capitol. Her bright red hair was straightened and pulled into a ponytail perched absurdly high on her head, where it bounced like a rabbit's tail with every movement she made. She wore a bright blue dress of shiny satin, the hem of it puffed up to a ridiculous extent and tiered, Blue assumed so that she resembled a wave. In fact, when she looked closer, she could see that tiny orbs of glass or plastic adorned the very edge of the fabric, the reflections on their surfaces as rainbowed and swirled as the surface of a bubble.

On a stand behind her sat two large glass balls, each filled almost to the brim with slips of paper. Upon reaching the age of twelve, every child was eligible for the reaping. At twelve, your name was entered once. At thirteen, twice, in addition to that. At fourteen, three times, and so on until you reached eighteen. Blue had counted: at the age of sixteen, fifteen of those slips read Blue Fisher.

That was the thing about her name, too. Since no one knew who her parents were, she had simply been named after her occupation: a fisher. Which conveniently worked as a last name.

When ten o'clock arrived, Mayor Oak stood and walked up to the podium. He gave the same speech that the districts heard every year: about the natural disasters that had ravaged the land, destroying so much of the resources until people had to fight for what little was left, until Panem rose from the ruins, one shining Capitol surrounded by thirteen districts. The Capitol gave its citizens peace and prosperity, until the Dark Days, when all of the districts had rebelled, taking lives of both the Capitol and their own. But the power of the Capitol had been too great; it had crushed all districts and completely destroyed District 13, restoring order with the Treaty of Treason. Not to mention the Hungry Pokemon Games.

The rules of the Hungry Pokemon Games were simple. Every year, two kids from every district, a boy and a girl, called tributes, were reaped by the Capitol and forced to fight to the death in an enclosed outdoor arena, full of death traps and weapons and yes, hungry Pokemon, all conditions that the Gamemakers could change at any moment, until only one tribute out of twenty-four remained. The tribute would be crowned victor and given a place in the Victors' Village back home, his or her district showered with gifts while the other districts starved. The Hungry Pokemon Games served as a constant reminder to all of the districts that the Dark Days must never happen again, reminding them of the power the Capitol wielded over them—the fact that they could kill their children at random, could destroy them the way they destroyed District 13, and that there was nothing they could do about it but _celebrate_.

"It is both a time for repentance and a time for thanks," Mayor Oak said solemnly, lowering his head, and for a moment, Blue remembered that evening, the treasonous words he had spoken to her on the beach.

_He's faking, isn't he?_ she wondered, staring at the shadows that fell over the hollows of his cheeks.

But she couldn't catch anything in the mayor's eyes, and next, he launched into a reading of the district's past victors, all nine of them, though only six were still alive. Volkner Odair received the heartiest applause, as usual. He lifted his head and smiled a winning smile that Blue would bet made nearly all the women and half the men's hearts lurch in their chests, and then sat back again, blue eyes calm.

"And now, to Misty Waterflower," Mayor Oak finished, inclining his head respectfully toward District 4's escort. Misty's red hair bounced and her sparkly blue high heels clacked as she stood and stepped up to the podium.

"Welcome, welcome, everyone!" she exclaimed cheerily, her voice blaring throughout the square and over the sound of the crashing waves behind her. "Happy Hungry Pokemon Games to you all!"

Blue barely listened as she went on. It was the same thing every year, almost the exact same words. "It's such an honor for me to be here today, among one of the most distinguished and popular districts in the Hungry Pokemon Games. I just love the ocean here, don't you?" Her face seemed to split in two as she beamed. "Anyway, today, we will discover—no, _decide_—the names of the courageous young man and woman who will be representing District 4 in the seventy-fourth Hungry Pokemon Games, and who will hopefully be bringing home another victor to this _wonderful_ district." Misty pressed her lips shut, letting the air tremble with the pause. "And finally, the time has come that you've all been waiting for. May the odds be ever in your favor!"

She stepped back from the podium and clacked her way over to the two glass jars. "Ladies first."

Blue felt her stomach tighten as Misty reached a pale, slender arm into the glass ball on the left. _Only fifteen_, she reminded herself, fifteen out of hundreds and thousands of pieces of paper curled up and tumbling around inside the jar, at the full mercy of her fingers. Misty dug her hand inside, rummaging around, and reemerged with a tiny, folded slip of paper. The rustle sounded like a distant crackle of thunder as she unfolded it, taking her time, eyebrows furrowed in anticipation. And then something in her face relaxed, and she leaned forward against the microphone and read the name:

"Blue Fisher."

For a moment, Blue barely heard her name. She had been watching Mayor Oak's face, his head dipped low toward the podium, his brow furrowed and mouth a straight, careful, line. She hadn't paid him much attention, before, at the reaping ceremonies, but this year, after that evening, she wanted to see him, to understand him. What was he thinking? What did he think of the reaping?

And then heads turned, the crowd nearby swiveling around to stare at her, and the words registered in her head.

She could feel a disturbance at the edges of the square, footsteps hard and heavy; Peacekeepers in their white uniforms were already making their way toward her, the crowd parting before them like water whenever one of their boats sliced through the waves. It wasn't long before they reached her, grabbing hold of her arms. She shook them free. "I'll walk myself," she muttered through her teeth.

"Now, don't be shy, come up, come up," Misty urged cheerfully into the microphone.

_I'm coming_, Blue thought, annoyed, but she kept her mouth shut.

She felt no fear, honestly, as the Peacekeepers took her arms anyway and marched her up toward the stage. Blue made sure to keep her head held high, the brim of her hat shielding the rapidly brightening sunshine from her eyes. There wasn't much of a reason to be scared. Though of course no one ever acknowledged it, least of all the escorts, District 4 was considered a Career district, albeit not to the same degree as Districts 1 and 2. That meant that people trained all their lives to participate in the Hungry Pokemon Games. That meant that someone was going to volunteer to take her place. They had to. They did every single year.

Almost every year.

She could remember one year, when there had been a disease that had taken almost all of the fish in the sea, when the normally comfortable district had nearly starved, sunken cheeks and skinny limbs and gaunt stares all around the streets. There had been no children strong enough to train that year, no children who had enough energy to hunger for the glory of winning the Games when they were struggling to survive. Blue hadn't been alive that year, but she had heard the stories. That year, a tiny twelve-year-old boy had been reaped, his first year. Normally, someone would have volunteered; people always protested when tributes that young were chosen. But that year, no one could.

Needless to say, District 4 hadn't brought home a victor that year.

Blue had reached the steps, now, and she mounted them one by one, careful to keep her back straight and her head held high. The Peacekeepers let her arms go, and she stepped onto the stage and faced the audience, hearing her sneakers pad against the stage.

"Wonderful," Misty said happily. "I present to you our tribute, Blue Fisher!"

But she was barely looking at Blue. She knew the protocol, Blue thought wryly. This was a Career district, after all. So instead, their escort turned her gaze out toward the crowd. "Do we have any volunteers to take her place?"

Blue waited, scanning them with her eyes. There had to be someone. Wind whistled through the square, bringing with it the scent of salt, the only movement around her that dispelled the tension. She found the Careers, the few she had seen and recognized, clustered together in their age groups. Yes, it looked like there were more boys than girls this year, but there had to be someone. She eyed a heavyset girl with pug-like features. Her? Or maybe the one next to her, with bright blond hair and broad shoulders. One of them had to speak up.

But the seconds dragged on, heavy and suffocating, and still no one moved.

"No? No volunteers?" Misty looked disappointed. It must have ruined the show for her, Blue thought sourly. "Not this year?"

The shock was almost palpable as Mayor Oak cleared his throat softly behind them and shook his head. "Not this year."

Surprise flickered over Misty's face, and she opened and closed her mouth for a moment, like one of the fish she loved so much. But as Blue watched, she quickly regained her composure and went back to beaming.

"Well, then I suppose we can move on to the boys, now." She stepped back again, making her way over to the other glass bowl.

_Wait, what?_

Blue's mind was racing, her heart starting to pound against her ribcage. Adrenaline surged through her veins. No. It couldn't be. District 4 had volunteers almost every other year. They weren't called a Career district for nothing. No volunteers? How could there be no volunteers? She wanted to scream at Misty not to move on, to give them more time, because _someone_ had to volunteer. There were Careers to take her place, damn it, all of those girls—she wasn't supposed to _actually_ go in!

But Misty was already moving on, already reaching her hand into the jar, fumbling around with the slips of paper and pulling one out. Blue wanted to lunge out and stop her, but the Peacekeepers were all around, and someone would probably stop her or lock her up or worse, and there was nothing she could do because—

"Youngster Joey!"

She cut her thoughts short. The crowd was parting again, and Peacekeepers were heading toward the cluster of thirteen-year-olds, as the crowd parted to reveal a boy with a yellow T-shirt and a backwards blue baseball cap, a boy who looked as if he was about to cry.

"Come on up, Joey!" Misty said. "Don't be shy!"

Peacekeepers grabbed both of the boy's skinny arms, and as he swung his head frantically from one side to the other, Blue swore that he _was_ going to cry. Tears were bubbling in his eyes, and he was craning his head as if he was looking for someone and opening his mouth to shout—

"_Wait_. I volunteer."

Along with everyone in the crowd, she turned her head at the sharp, cool voice that cut across the silence.

A boy with handsome, pointed features and light brown hair that tumbled over his forehead in a soft cascade of spikes was raising his hand from the band of sixteen-year-olds. He held up a hand toward the Peacekeepers who started toward him, and for some reason, they backed away. The curiosity of it was enough to quiet the panicking in Blue's stomach for a moment, enough to distract her. The boy began to make his way toward the stage with measured steps and the silken air of someone who was used to being noticed—and, for that matter, appreciated. A cute boy, Blue thought as she watched him, suppressing a giggle.

The laughter died in her throat as he neared the stage. There was something about him… She narrowed her eyes. He looked oddly familiar. Could it be…wasn't that Mayor Oak's grandson? What was his name? Purple? Orange? Green? Something like that.

Before she could lean forward to get a better look, Misty stepped forward to meet the boy as he mounted the steps to the stage, the blue, bubbled hem of her dress bouncing behind her with every step.

"Why, how wonderful!" Misty exclaimed, looking relieved. "It looks like we have a volunteer!" (_As if you don't every year,_ Blue thought wryly.) "What's your name, honey?"

The boy hardly blinked, the frosty expression never leaving his face. His eyes curved upward slightly, Blue noticed, shining with a steady, disdainful light.

"I'm Green. Green Oak."

Blue bit back a smile. So she had been right. It _was_ him, after all.

She had seen Mayor Oak's grandson a few times, lingering in the background, always wearing neatly pressed white shirts and the same serious face whenever his grandfather had to give a speech to the district. But today, Green was wearing a black collared shirt and blue pants, dressed up differently for the occasion—graver, she realized, more solemn. She fidgeted, shifting her weight from one foot to the other and hoping that the cameras weren't focused on her now (though undoubtedly they were). If only she could turn around, now, and peek at the mayor's face: his austere eyebrows furrowed as he watched his grandson volunteer, she imagined, a grave frown bringing out the wrinkles on his face.

"Green! How lovely!" Misty raised her head, beaming out toward the audience. "All right, everyone, let's have a round of applause for our brave volunteer Green!"

Because it was a Career district and there were kids who volunteered every year, Blue watched silently as the people in the crowd raised their hands, albeit slowly, one by one, and began to clap. A wave of applause rose around her, thunderous yet eerily flat. There was no love or enthusiasm behind those hands, she knew, only a grim determination. She breathed in, suddenly feeling short of air, and for the first time, drowned out by the noise, she dared to turn and sneak a glance at Green.

He had barely moved. He stood facing forward, watching them silently, his expression still unchanged, green eyes cool.

Normally, other volunteers would have spoken up at this point, but she saw their faces in the crowd, saw the would-be Career tributes exchanging glances and stepping back, their faces flat, and understood. No one wanted to volunteer against Mayor Oak's own grandson. In any case, Misty was satisfied. She strode back up to the microphone, taking Blue's hand in hers and Green's in her other and hauling them over her head.

"And now I present to you…the District 4 tributes of the seventy-fourth annual Hungry Pokemon Games…Blue Fisher and Green Oak!"

For some reason, the thunderous applause that followed and the stony look in Green's eyes, impassive, refusing to reveal a single thought, twisted Blue's stomach into a knot as something hot and liquid that felt strangely like grief slithered up the back of her throat. Green had volunteered to take the place of the youngster, but there was no one to save her. She fought the urge to bite her lip as she gazed out into the crowd. The odds just hadn't been in her favor this year, no matter what district she came from.

Even as she shook inside, Blue raised her head and shaped her lips into a bright, defiant smile.

_I'll be all right_, she told herself as Misty dropped their hands, slowly lowering hers instead of letting it fall numbly to her side. She had her wits, her cunning, with her. She had learned to survive on her own, without her parents or anyone there to help her. She had her optimism, her conviction to live another day. Her ability to smile even in the face of death.

And then the thought came to her, trickling through the confines of her mind: there would be no one to miss her. She had no parents, she had some friends among the fishers, but no one she truly knew. It was hard to know people when everyone was struggling to survive, in spite of, or perhaps _because_ of, the wealth of their district. The competition extended beyond those who longed to be Career tributes; it was everywhere, permeating the picturesque ocean and cliffs of the district. That was why no one had volunteered for her, she realized. She was an orphan with no family, barely any friends, and no name, no major contributions to the district. No one needed her. The Careers had that, at least. She, on the other hand, was no great loss.

Blasty was the only one who would miss her.

Blasty. The thought made her almost washed the smile from her face. She clenched her fists, remembering the cameras, their lenses cold and sharp and unfeeling, and found him in the back rows of the crowd, fixing her eyes on him, drawing strength from the pure blue of his skin and the hulking strength of his shell. She would have to say goodbye to him. She would make sure he was taken care of.

_I'll show them_, she thought, rolling her hands into determined fists as she faced the crowd. _I'll show them I _am_ something to lose. I'll show them in the Games. I'll show them…by winning._

The anthem blared from the speakers placed around the square, and as soon as it was over, Peacekeepers in their absurd outfits grabbed her and Green's arms and steered them backward, down the steps and into the Justice Building behind the stage. The doors slammed shut behind them, and in place of the choking applause that seemed to have devoured her ears and everything around her, the ceiling closed over her, and there was only silence.


	2. Chapter Two

_Author's Note:_

First of all, thanks so much for the reviews, everyone! N is satisfied. You have made the king happy. :3

Thanks also to Anonymous and blazelight790 for your anonymous reviews. I'm glad you were pleasantly surprised, Anonymous, despite not being a huge fan of AU crossovers, and thanks for the encouragement, blazelight. You'll see in this chapter some hints of who the other districts' tributes are, if you can pick up on the descriptions. Some should be pretty obvious. Even if they aren't, don't worry, they'll all be fully revealed quite soon. :)

Unfortunately, this chapter is un-betaed, since my lovely beta is on a hiatus right now, but I figured I would post this since I finished already. Sorry Dainoooo. Feel free to attack this properly when you get back.

Any and all feedback is always lurved. Even if you just want to comment on the choices of counterparts and such, I'd love to hear from you. Hope you like this chapter!

* * *

**Chapter Two**

Blue hardly had time to take in her surroundings before the Peacekeepers marched her into a room at the side of one of the hallways and slammed the door shut, leaving her alone inside.

She blinked, startled at the darkness after the morning sunlight. The deep, rich wood and plush carpets of the room caught her off guard, so different from the pale, sandy, rough glaze of the rest of the district. The Justice Building looked clean-cut and pristine in a way that everywhere else did not; it was if someone had held a crisp pair of lenses to her eyes so that she was seeing clearly for the first time. The edges seemed sharp, perfectly cut, the surfaces smooth and almost metallic. As she took in the sight, Blue settled herself on a velvet couch and ran her fingers through the silky fabric.

She had seen enough plays of the Hungry Pokemon Games in her life to know that after being reaped, the tributes had one hour to say goodbye. She imagined everyone filing out of the square, now, giddy with relief, going home to celebrate another year of life and safety behind closed doors. Everyone except her…and Green.

Who would even come to say goodbye, she wondered? The fact that no one had volunteered for her should have told her enough about her place in the district. Would the people she talked to on the docks every day care enough to come by?

It turned out she didn't have to wait long to find out. Hardly a few minutes had passed before she heard a commotion outside the room and jumped to her feet. Someone—or something—was banging around in the hallway, slamming into walls and roaring amidst the alarmed cries of the Peacekeepers. Blue thought she recognized a voice, and panicking, she ran to the door as quickly as she could and yanked it open—to the sight of a hard brown shell with cannons pointing toward the ceiling ramming into the wall with a loud, dusty crash.

"Hey! Stop it! Stop! Let him in!" she hollered, as one of the Peacekeepers grabbed the edge of Blasty's shell, the others pointing their guns at him and struggling with his thick, flailing arms. "That's my Pokemon!"

One of the Peacekeepers turned, his face expressionless, gun raised. "I'm sorry, but we can't allow Pokemon in here. Only family and friends—"

"He _is_ my only family!" Blue snarled, and, surprised, the Peacekeeper let go of the Pokemon's shell and backed away for an instant—enough time for Blasty to lunge forward and barrel his way into the room with a loud roar, knocking aside the door.

The Peacekeepers lowered their guns and then exchanged a glance, one that might have made Blue grin in different circumstances, one that said, _I don't want to mess with that thing_. One of them glared at her.

"Fine, but if he gets out of control again, we won't hesitate." He didn't need to finish the sentence.

"And it will be on you this time, girl," another one added.

"He won't. As long as you get out and _leave him alone_." Blue was beyond caring about what they could do to her. It wasn't like it mattered much anymore, did it? She returned the Peacekeeper's glare fully and slammed the door shut behind her.

Still, her hands were shaking when she faced Blasty again, safe and unharmed, though he was panting a little from the struggle and from his anger. It was only thanks to the splendor of the Justice Building that the Peacekeepers hadn't wanted to fire their guns, she knew. If they had been able to…

"Blasty," Blue cried, unable to stop herself anymore from running forward into his arms. Even though his shell was hard, his cannons like steel, his belly was always soft and welcoming to her. She remembered how it had been when he was a Squirtle, how she would scoop him up in her arms and hold him. Now, he towered over her, had to protect _her_. Even when he couldn't.

"Blaast," Blasty said sadly, and it was enough to make her want to cry.

Instead, she stepped back, holding back her tears, and smiled sadly back at him. "Guess the odds weren't in my favor this year, Blasty."

"Blast." Blasty shook his head, anger brimming in his eyes. He lifted his foot and stomped it against the spotless wooden floor, making the whole building shake for a moment. "Blast Blastoise."

Blue shook her head, frowning. "I know it's not fair, Blasty, but there's not much we can do about it. All I can do is try my best to win." She tugged at the ribbon still tied around his ears, already like a sad token of yesterday. "But I promise you that…no matter what happens, I won't go down without a fight. If it comes to that." She couldn't quite bring herself to wink, but she mustered a smile nonetheless. "You know me."

Blasty nodded fiercely, but she could tell that his eyes were glistening with more than just the water of his type. Blue shook her head again. That wouldn't do. If he cried, then _she_ was going to start crying. And she couldn't afford that. When they boarded the train that would take them to the Capitol, there would be more cameras there. She had to keep her mind on what was important, on what she had to do.

"Don't forget your moves. I won't be here to train with you, but…you should keep practicing every day. And keep fishing. Make sure you feed yourself. Stay strong." An idea suddenly occurred to her, one that managed to brighten her mood by the slightest bit. "Maybe Mayor Oak will even take you back, since he hatched you, after all. Go to his place. It would be best if you could stay with him." She couldn't bear to think of Blasty homeless and wandering the beach on his own; who knew what the Peacekeepers would do to a stray Pokemon like him, and a strong one, too? "There'll even be extra room now that Green is gone, won't there?" she added softly.

"Blast." Blasty kept nodding, but he stepped forward and laid a thick arm on her shoulder, his eyes heavy. "Blastoise."

"I'll miss you too," Blue said, starting to sniffle. No. She couldn't. She inhaled sharply, not caring that it made a disgusting, snot-choked noise. "But stay strong. You'll make it. Don't give up, and I won't, either."

Blasty's cannons rose behind him as he took a deep breath, his stomach swelling out. Reaching forward, he took Blue's arms in his hands, gently cradling them in his own, careful not to hurt her with his claws. Her arms looked tiny against his, her skin pale against the smooth, damp blue. Again, she remembered the days when he had been a Squirtle, when his hands had been half the size of her own, his arms less than the length of her forearm. His shell had fit nicely in her arms. It felt like so long ago.

"It'll be okay," she reassured him, smiling, and for a moment, she almost believed it. "You'll see. It will."

A sharp rap on the door jarred her back to reality; she turned, sliding her hands from Blasty's. The door slid open, and white-hooded head peered into the room, scowling.

"There's someone here for you," the Peacekeeper said flatly, and before Blue could even open her mouth, he ushered—more like shoved—the visitor inside, the door slamming shut behind them.

"Who is—" Blue started, but as the mysterious visitor lifted his head from the crisp, neatly ironed suit he was wearing, the words froze in her throat.

"Mayor Oak?"

It was indeed Mayor Oak, worry lines etched into his face, his thick eyebrows as prominent as ever. The mayor stepped forward, nodding respectfully at Blasty as he went.

"Hello, Blasty. And _Blue_." He tipped his head toward her, his jaw tight, voice urgent. "There's not much time. I wanted to check in on you before you go."

Blue blinked, still not quite caught up with the situation. She was glad to see him, but why?

"But…but I don't understand…why are you here?" she stammered. "I mean—what I mean to say is…to what do I owe the honor?"

A hint of a smile pulled at the tense corners of the mayor's mouth, and he let out a tired sigh.

"Well, what can I say, Blue? You've taken care of Blasty all these years. You've given him a home. You've—well, you've helped him evolve, for goodness' sake." Though it was quick, almost imperceptible, she caught the pause in his words, full of what those words implied. "Together, the two of you have become some of the best fishers in the district. Which I'm sure Panem is thankful for," he added smoothly, casting a quick glance over his shoulder at where the Peacekeepers must be standing. Green must have inherited some of that smoothness from him, Blue thought, thinking of the way the boy had spoken, cool and composed, the silken way he carried himself.

"And now you're about to head out into the Games." Oak paused, looking down. "Can you blame me if I wanted to…to wish you the best of luck?"

For a moment, Blue struggled to find her voice. What could she say to that? She could hardly believe that the mayor himself—the most important person in the entire district, really—had come to see her. The girl no one had volunteered for. That was probably what she would become known as now in the Games, at any rate. Hot tears welled up in her and threatened to leak of her eyes; she pushed them back down. No. There was no reason to cry. No reason for that kind of weakness. She steeled herself and smiled instead.

"Thank you, Mr. Oak," she choked out finally. "But shouldn't you be…with Green? Shouldn't you be wishing him the same?"

Oak smiled tiredly. "I will, when I tell him goodbye. But first, there are some things I would like to say to you."

_To me?_

"I want to let you know, first of all, that I'll take care of Blasty," he said, and Blue's heart lifted and soared in relief from where it had lay stone-heavy in her chest. "He can stay with me, and I'll make sure to provide a home for him—and a chance for him to take nice long walks on the beach." Despite the casual remark, the hidden meaning of his words hit Blue. _Long walks on the beach_. Oak was going to keep battling with him, she realized. "Rest assured, he'll be well looked after. I'll do my best to take good care of him, the same way you would."

"I—I don't even know how to thank you," she said, her voice trembling. "Blasty…he's the only family I have."

"I know, Blue. Which is why I'll do my best to care for him like he's part of my own." Oak inclined his head.

Blue felt the floor tremble slightly beneath her feet as Blasty lumbered past her shoulder to stare at the mayor.

"Blast?" The Blastoise's eyes were wide, almost confused.

"It's okay, Blasty." Blue turned around and touched his arm, beaming for the first time since the reaping. "Mayor Oak says he'll take care of you. You'll be all right."

The Blastoise stared ahead and blinked at the mayor a few times, the truth seeming to sink slowly into his eyes. As Blue watched, stepped forward, gaze still fixed on the mayor, and then lowered his head so that his chin rested gently on the man's graying hair. "Blastoise," he said simply, solemnly.

"I'll be glad to have you back, Blasty," said Oak with a wan smile, as he brought a hand up to pat the Blastoise's arm. "It's been a while."

Blue couldn't help but smile. When the Pokemon stepped back, the mayor faced her.

"And Blue, I have one more thing for you."

Blue watched, perplexed, as he reached into his pocket and drew out something small that she couldn't see, cradled in the palm of his hand. She resisted the urge to lean forward and peek at it. What could he possibly have for her?

"You know that tributes are allowed to take one thing into the arena with them, right? A token from their district that reminds them of home." Blue nodded, and Oak went on. "I thought I would give this to you, and that perhaps you might want to bring it with you to the Games."

He opened his hand, and Blue saw that in his palm, between wrinkles and callouses that spoke of his many years, lay a golden pin. It was carefully crafted in the shape of a a small bird in flight, the tips of its wings attached to a ring around it. Her eyes widened as she recognized the bird: it was a Chateotto.

Chateotto were a funny species of flying Pokemon. They were the strange, unexpected product of muttations, or genetically altered animals that had been created by the Capitol to use as weapons. During the Dark Days, the Capitol had bred a species called Chatot, exclusively male birds that had been released in regions where the Capitol knew that their enemies were hiding. Chatot had the ability to remember and repeat the sounds of whole human conversations, which they would hear from the rebels and then repeat back to the Capitol. However, the rebels had soon discovered what was happening, and they had spread false rumors and plans for the birds to take back to the Capitol. When the Capitol realized what they were doing, they had stopped breeding Chatot, and had left them to die.

But they hadn't. Instead, the Chatot had mated with female Pidgeotto in nature, and the result had been the Chateotto: a bird that couldn't replicate the sounds of words, but could still make the sounds of bird calls and a wide range of human noises. Best of all, they could repeat any melody they heard, whistling a song almost perfectly after hearing it once. They were an example of resilience, of something that had defied the Capitol's plans, of life that even they could not crush.

"It's pretty," Blue said, examining at the golden bird, the way the lights in the room danced and shone off its wings. She had never liked birds, but somehow, now, the sight of the Chateotto inspired her, filled her with a strange, defiant strength. There was nothing left for her to fear if she was heading into the Hungry Pokemon Games, after all. How much worse could it get? And if she wanted to have any hope for winning, she would have to overcome all of her fears.

She stared down at the pin. It was a good place to start—not only a bird, but a bird that had defeated the Capitol itself. If they could bring _her_ fear, she mused wryly, then how much terror could they bring to the Capitol?

Oak nodded. "It will look even better on you. And in the arena."

Besides, Blue reasoned, there was nothing else she could take. There were no family or friends she had to remember in the arena. In fact, only Mayor Oak, as stern and mysterious as he was, had shown her any kindness, given her anything to remember him by.

She nodded and smiled up at him.

"Thanks, Mr. Oak. I'll bring it as my token."

She plucked the pin from his grasp and fixed it on her shirt, where it settled into the furrows of the fabric, gold against blue. The mayor smiled back at her, admiring the sight of it, and then stepped back.

"There's not much time left. I have to say my goodbyes to Green now, but I wish you the very best when you're out there," he said solemnly, bowing his head. He lifted his chin and then stared into his eyes, gaze steady and serious.

"Don't forget what I said to you on the beach," he murmured, more quietly. "There is more…more to the world than what the Capitol expects from it. More to people."

"I won't," Blue answered, puzzled at his cryptic statement. It was true, of course, and there was the fact that she and Blasty battled, and the shock that the mayor did himself, breaking the law…but what could he mean? As Oak headed back toward the door, she took a step forward and called after him.

"And Mr. Oak…I hope Green…I wish Green the best, too."

He turned around one last time, nodding toward her.

"Thank you, Blue. I'll give him my best, as well." He turned the door handle, and when it swung shut after him, he was gone.

The rest of the time passed quickly, too quickly, as Blue talked with Blasty, alternating between reminiscing over all the times they had spent together and reminding him of what he had to do after she left. To her surprise, a few of her fishing companions actually stopped by to say a quick, awkward goodbye to her before stumbling out. After they left, she wondered if she should have tried to become better friends with them, after all.

But she didn't have much time to think about it; soon, the Peacekeepers were calling for her, and she gave her Pokemon one last hug and a tug of the ribbon around his ears—her last gift to him before the Games, she supposed—and let them take her to the car parked outside the Justice Building.

The ride to the train station didn't take long. Blue had to admit that she was impressed at the car; no one used one to get around District 4, even if they had the money, not even the victors. It didn't make sense in such a sandy, cliff-ridden district.

Next to her, Green said nothing and didn't even look at her. He kept his eyes fixed in front of him as Blue's wandered outside the window, taking in the familiar, comforting sight of the cliffs and sea speeding by for what might very well be the last time.

_No, don't think like that,_ she chided herself as the Peacekeepers opened the door to let her out into the train station.

She had been right; the cameras were everywhere, flashing as the reporters behind them zoomed in on the two of them and broadcasted it all on the large screen on the wall that showed their arrival. Blue sneaked a look at herself, peering through her bangs. Well, at least her outfit was still as neat as it had been when she had first slipped it on that morning, her hair still flat and silky. She looked around at the station and made herself smile, saw the bright, cheeky gleam light up in her eyes on screen. The sight of it made her feel oddly satisfied.

_That's right_. Let them see that it didn't bother her, that she'd grin at them all the way to the end. Whatever that would be.

She noticed that Green's face, next to hers on the screen, was still barely showing any emotion, save for a tightness at the edges of his mouth and his chiseled cheeks. But there was a sadness in his eyes, she saw, a bitterness, turning the green into something that looked almost like gray in the flashing light of the cameras. His face was pale and drawn.

After the cameras snapped one last shot of the two of them poised at the open entrance to the train, they stepped inside, and the doors slid shut behind them.

Again, the silence was more than welcome. Blue let herself breathe, let the smile drop off her face, and smoothed down her hair, relieved that she didn't have to put on a front for the cameras anymore. As good as she may or may not have been at smiling, it was tiring, to be so hyper-conscious all the time. She let her breath out, smoothing down her hair and her skirt, and swung her head around to take in her surroundings.

The inside of the train was smoother and shinier than anything she had ever seen in District 4, rather like the Justice Building had been. Everything seemed to be either white or silver. Did everything Capitol-related look like this, she wondered? The compartment they stood in had a small table with a bench on each side and a vase of flowers, in cheerful pinks and yellows, that someone must have placed there to welcome them before they boarded. Next to the vase lay a fancy glass bowl filled with tiny, artfully wrapped candies of various colors. Along with the flowers, aside seemed like the only colorful thing in the room, aside from the windows that opened wide across almost the entire length of both walls.

The floor lurched under her feet as the train launched into motion almost instantly. Blue gasped. The train sped forward as quickly as anything she had ever seen, but the motion was smooth, picking up speed with hardly a lurch. The only indication of its speed were the blur of the sandy cliffs outside, zooming by before her eyes. Green had wandered over to the window on the other side of the table, where he stood now, staring outside.

Blue watched him with a smile.

_Why not?_ she thought, and meandered over to stand next to him.

"Spiffy place they got for us here, isn't it?"

Green turned, his hair rustling with the motion, and fixed his eyes on her. The movement looked oddly delicate on him, somehow, Blue thought as she gazed back at him. She smiled. His eyes were darker than they had seemed at the reaping, she realized, a darker green than she had expected. Or maybe it was just the lighting.

"Not really," he said tersely, turning back to stare out the window.

Blue ignored him. "I mean, it's a horrible day, and everything's pretty awful, of course, but they did do a good job fixing it up. You have to give them that."

Green made no sign that he heard her.

"I'm sure the Capitol will be just as nice, won't it?" she continued dreamily. "Say what you want about the Hungry Pokemon Games, but at least we get to live in luxury for a while."

Green finally turned to face her.

"I'm sorry, but _why_ are you talking to me?"

His voice was as smooth and snarky-sounding as she remembered from the reaping. It made her grin. "Oh? Friendly, aren't we?" she giggled. "Well, _sorry_ if I offended you or anything, but I just wanted to say hi. We might as well _talk_ to each other now that we're stuck on this train. Your name is Green, right?"

"Yeah." He scoffed lightly, jamming his hands into his pockets and going back to staring out the window. Blue followed his gaze, but she didn't find the stretches of sand and meadow zooming by nearly as interesting as he seemed to. "From the amount of times they said it at the reaping, you'd be pretty slow if you didn't know it by now."

Blue raised an eyebrow at him. A challenge. She liked that.

"Well, I guess you remember my name, then?"

Green shrugged. His eyes narrowed for a moment and then relaxed, as if he had decided that answering her question was harmless.

"You're Blue."

"You got it!" She beamed, flashing him a thumbs up. "That would be me."

Green nodded curtly. After a moment's pause, to Blue's surprise, he opened his mouth and spoke again.

"Well, in any case, what my grandfather has back home is _much_ better than anything on this train."

He turned from the window, finally, and spun around without even looking at her. Blue raised her eyebrows, mildly impressed at his remark. She didn't doubt it; the Oaks were pretty loaded, his grandfather being the mayor and a famous Pokemon professor and all. She watched as he loped over to the seats stretched out by the window, and after a moment's hesitation, followed after him. When he took a seat at the table, she slid into position across from him.

"Can we have one of these candies, do you think?" she mused, crossing her legs and plucking a pretty purple one from the glass bowl. The wrapper crinkled nicely in her fingers as she held it up to the light. "They look so cute."

Green shrugged, looking as if he was holding back an exasperated sigh. "Who else would they be for?"

"I guess." Blue looked up at him and held a finger to her lips, winking. "But I wouldn't want to cross any of the Capitol's lines so early on, now, would I, ho ho ho!"

Green let out the sigh.

"Whatever. You'll have plenty of time for that later."

"But you won't, will you," she said, grinning up at him as she tore the wrapper from the candy, "because you're a good little Career, aren't you?" She plopped the candy into her mouth, small and hard and light purple. The flavor exploded in her mouth, sugary and tart and satisfying, with an unexpected bite. Blue decided she liked it.

Green shrugged again. "I suppose."

"Mmm, this Capitol food…really, you can't say anything bad about it," Blue sighed, savoring the candy. After it had dissolved in her mouth, leaving behind a pleasantly refreshing, sour aftertaste, she folded the wrapper and flung it onto the table.

"So, anyway." She faced him again, narrowing her eyes in thought. "I've always wanted to know this about you Career types. Why _did_ you volunteer?"

Green shrugged, his eyes flicking toward the window again. He didn't look at her when he answered. Blue suspected that he had had an answer prepared.

"It's what Gramps would have wanted. Besides, I've been training for the Hungry Pokemon Games all my life."

_Really?_ Mayor Oak? The mention of his grandfather surprised her; from what Blue had seen of him, Mayor Oak seemed like the last person who would condone his grandson going into the Games. But Green looked so serious that she put a finger to her lips and winked, hiding her surprise.

"No, you haven't."

"Yes, I have."

She shook her head, grinning. "No, you haven't."

"Yes, I _have_." She could swear that his eyes flashed with a sudden, fleeting intensity. "Might as well admit it."

"Not to the Capitol."

"The Capitol knows, too. Everyone does. We just can't say it."

"Exactly." She gave him another wink.

The train rumbled on for a few moments before Green opened his mouth again.

"You haven't, have you?"

"Haven't what?"

"Been training."

Blue shook her head, smiling. "Nope. I was picked fresh."

Green nodded, as a pensive _thought so_ look flitted across his face, followed by a twitch of his mouth. She knew why he was grimacing: he knew that that certainly lowered _her_ chances of making it through. Strangely, the thought didn't trouble her much.

He paused before speaking again.

"Are you…afraid?"

"Me? Now, why would I ever be afraid?" she asked with a wink.

A flick of his wrist as Green turned his head to the side. "Could you stop that?"

"What?"

He pressed his lips into a thin line. "That winking thing. It's annoying."

Blue crossed her arms and huffed, pretending to be offended.

"Well, _someone_ doesn't have much of a sense of humor."

Green raised an eyebrow.

"We're about to head into the Hungry Pokemon Games to fight twenty-two other kids to the death. Forgive me if I'm not in the most humorous of moods right now."

"Okay, okay, fair enough."

Blue uncrossed her arms, raising them into the air and stretching her legs out in front of her, and let loose a loud yawn. She was conscious of Green watching her with a suspicious, measured stare, a hint of contempt scrawled across his fine features. _Let him snark_, she thought, biting back a smirk. Just because _he_ wanted to act like he had a stick up his ass didn't mean she had to. It had been an early start to the day, after all. Typically, she would have been able to sleep as long as she wanted, since it didn't matter when the fishers' day started, as long as they brought in enough fish by the end of the day. And Blue didn't mind slacking off a bit—or more than a bit—especially when she had Blasty to help speed things up in the afternoon.

Since Green didn't seem to want to talk much after that (not that he ever had in the first place), she turned and gazed outside the window. The cliffs and sandy, rocky fields of District Four, punctuated by tufts of grass and the occasional meadow, were only getting rockier and cliffier, crags rising up jagged and stark around them. The train was going _up_, Blue realized, as peaks rose and whizzed by outside the window. Of course. She had learned in school that the Capitol was nestled in the mountains of Panem, a range that used to be called the Rockies. The ride from District 4 to the Capitol wasn't long, Blue knew from the maps she had seen. It was one of the closer districts to the Capitol, to the south of Panem and near the mountain range that surrounded it.

She didn't know how long it had been before the door to the compartment slid open, jarring them both out of their thoughts.

They both jumped as Volkner Odair stepped in, tugging on a blue jacket over his black T-shirt. His blond hair looked perfectly windswept, and his shirt was tantalizingly low-cut, Blue saw, plunging down his chest in a thin, deep V.

"Hello, hello," Volkner said nonchalantly as he seated himself across from Blue. Green made a face and scooted over reluctantly to make room for him.

Blue swallowed, her throat suddenly seizing up. Sure, she had seen Volkner at every single reaping that she could remember, but still, she had never dreamed of him sitting across from her the way he was now, looking her in the eyes with his shockingly blue ones and expecting a response. And so up close… She ran her fingers self-consciously through her hair, shocked at herself all the while. What was happening to her? Blue Fisher was _never_ at a loss for words.

Thankfully, Green didn't seem to be affected in quite the same way.

"Hello," he said coolly.

"If you don't know me already"—Volkner started shrugging off his jacket again, even though he had just pulled it on—"I'm Volkner Odair. Nice to meet you. I'll be your mentor this year." He paused, frowning. "Warm in here, isn't it?"

All the tugging on his jacket swept aside the loose fabric his shirt for a moment, revealing a momentary glimpse of his bare, toned chest. Blue cursed inwardly. Was he doing that on purpose?

Knowing Volkner, he probably was.

"It's fine," Green said curtly. "I'm Green. Green Oak."

"And I'm Blue!" Blue piped up, hating how squeaky her voice sounded all of a sudden. "Fisher," she added meekly.

"Pleasure." Volkner seemed to have finally managed to disentangle himself from his jacket. He tossed it aside, where it lay in a crumped heap on the bench. "I hope you don't mind if I take one of these candies, hmm?" He pointed a finger at the glass bowl. "They look rather delicious."

"They are," Blue answered. At least she could confirm that.

"Great. Then I'll help myself. You should, too." He reached forward, taking a yellow one, and crunched it seductively between his teeth. Even his chewing was seductive, somehow. "After all, what with you guys's situation right now…if you see something sweet, you'd better grab it quick, don't you?"

"_I_ did," Blue said, remembering the taste of the purple candy. "And it _was_ sweet."

"Wonderful," said Volkner, with a tiny hint of a smile. He didn't smile often, she had noticed. Almost never. "You've got the right attitude, then."

Next to him, Green looked rather disgusted.

"Anyway." Volkner swallowed the last bites of the candy and leaned forward, propping his arms on the table. His voice suddenly lost the flirtatious drawl he was famous for and took on a brisk, businesslike tone. "Let's talk strategy, then, shall we?"

That was his job as their mentor, Blue knew. Mentors were past victors who instructed each year's tributes on how to survive their Games. They advised the tributes on various strategies and organized sponsors who could buy items to send down to the tributes during the Games. Sponsors could mean the difference between life and death. Which meant the mentors did, as well.

"Okay," Green agreed, nodding. "What's your suggestion? How should we win?"

"Sponsors," Volkner's said without a moment's pause, as if reading Blue's mind. She and Green both nodded. Of course. Volkner had pretty much won his Games with the sheer power of sponsorship, after all. Sponsors had sent him that silver trident that he had used to skewer his opponents. "The two of you shouldn't have too much trouble getting sponsors," he went on. "You're both reasonably good-looking—though you're no me, I have to say—and Green, your grandfather—"

"Yes, I know, he's the mayor, and not to mention one of the most renowned Pokemon professors in Panem," Green cut in irritably. "I know."

"Don't underrate that," Volkner warned, a steely glint in his blue eyes. It sent shivers up Blue's spine. Damn, the guy _was_ handsome. Close up, it was even worse. She bit her lip, trying not to stare too much at the movements of his perfect mouth. "That'll win you significant popularity points. Which will mean more sponsors. And you…" He turned to Blue, who shrugged and smiled, feeling significantly more composed now.

"Sorry, I don't have any famous relations like that," she said, blinking innocently. "I don't know who my parents are, either. Guess I'm pretty much done for next to Green here." She made a face at him. Green did not look the least bit amused.

"Your attitude, though." Volkner gestured at her. Blue raised an eyebrow questioningly. Was Volkner about to rebuke her for talking back to him? She hadn't know he was such a stick-in-the-mud, too. As if Green weren't enough to deal with; now she'd have to put up with a stuffy hunk, too? But his next words surprised her. "See? Even now, you're smiling and making jokes. That's good. That'll make people like you. Keep it up."

Blue relished the sour look on Green's face.

"Thanks, Volkner," she quipped. "It's good to know that _someone_ likes me."

"If you play your cards right, other people will, too," Volkner answered matter-of-factly. "And in any case, sponsors will like you since you're a Career district, and you have a better chance of winning in the first place. You've both been training, haven't you?"

Green nodded, and Volkner turned to her.

"Blue?"

She shook her head, suddenly feeling nervous for the first time.

"I…I haven't, actually."

If her answer surprised him, Volkner didn't show it. A frown flitted across his face and was gone as soon as it had appeared.

"Well, I'm surprised we didn't have any girl volunteers this year, but it happens," he said briskly, as if the fact didn't at all affect Blue's chances of life or death. The only sign that the news ruffled him was the slight tightness of his chiseled jaw. "Once in a while, no one volunteers. This isn't District 1 or 2, after all. You'll be fine. With the training they have you do at the Capitol before the Games, and even with just your experience surviving as a fisher in the district, you've still got an advantage. As long as you're smart, you should still have an upper hand over most of the others." He paused. "Besides, they'll assume you're one, anyway. Act like a Career, and they'll think you are one. Trust me, they won't know the difference."

Blue didn't know how much of it was true, but it made sense, especially when spoken in Volkner's rich, deep voice, and she wanted to believe him, so she nodded. She could act. She remembered the way she had smiled, practically smirked, at the cameras. If that was all it took, she was more than capable of handling it.

"Anything other than sponsors that will help us?" Green demanded.

"Hmm…" Volkner lifted his eyes toward the window in thought and then shook his head. "Not at the moment, no. Nothing I can think of. We'll have much more to discuss once you start training at the Capitol, though, trust me."

Green scowled impatiently. Blue was too busy staring at Volkner's perfect blond hair to be overly bothered by the delay.

Since there weren't any more strategies to discuss, they watched the replay of the reapings instead. Volkner led them to another compartment with a huge, shiny television screen that covered nearly half the wall and impressed even Green. He gave a reluctant nod of approval as they sat down.

Blue liked watching the reapings every year. It made her sick to know that the kids who were chosen would have to eventually kill each other, of course, but she liked seeing the people who were picked every year, taking in their distinctive features and personalities. Now that she was one of them, she watched them even more closely.

From District 1, there were two volunteers, as usual. An exquisitely beautiful girl with long, raven-blue hair and haughty eyes held her nose particularly high in the air as she strode up to the stage, Blue thought, followed by a boy in a white suit with slicked-back brown hair and a sneer to match. It made sense that they had expensive clothes, she mused with a jealous sniff, taking in the fancy pink coat the girl was wearing—they could afford them, seeing as District 1, which made luxury items, was the wealthiest district in Panem. People often called them the pets of the Capitol.

District 2—the violent, brutal district that specialized in masonry and, though the Capitol never acknowledged it, weapons—produced a ferocious-looking brunette in blue who Blue could swear had _fangs_, and a boy with peculiarly curved blond hair who lunged impatiently onto the stage before the escort had even finished calling the name of the original tribute. Blue relaxed at District 3, which thankfully marked the end of the Careers. There were no volunteers who offered to take the place of the dark-haired boy with glasses and the girl whose blue, spiky pigtails seemed to defy gravity.

Blue had been nervous to watch her own reaping, but she and Green looked uncommonly composed in the District 4 reaping, she decided, satisfied, as she watched herself climb on stage, though a strand of her brown hair that had blown loose in the wind irritated her throughout the whole ceremony. The memory of looking down on the crowd and seeing no one with raised hands or voices for her made her stomach curdle. She was glad when the replay was over, and she felt Green relax next to her, as well. Well, as much as Green could relax, anyway.

District 5, the power district, offered up a wiry little girl with short pink hair and what looked like a bandage on her nose, who hopped and did some sort of kick on her way to the stage. Her boy counterpart had black hair, determined red eyes, and a surprisingly friendly, jovial smile that almost made Blue want to be his friend.

_That might win him some sponsors_, she thought bitterly, remembering Volkner's words and crushing the feeling. There would be no warming up to any of the other tributes, she reminded herself. That could be lethal.

_Thick_ would have been an understatement to describe the hair of the girl from District 6, the district in charge of the Battle Subway and other transportation. Her ponytail of dark brown curls tumbled and cascaded down her back like a Tangela's vines, though her eyes looked wide and shy as she trampled onto the stage. The boy, on the other hand, looked equal parts eager and confused as he made his way up, hair flaring out in brown tufts from his head.

District 7, the lumber district, produced a peculiar pair of tributes. The girl had spiky purple hair and a pink cape, and the boy was extremely short, with long, flapping sleeves and an impressively tall, thick flare of blond hair. _They_ would be an interesting pair to fight, Blue thought curiously. Both of them looked angry, too.

District 8's tributes proved to have a bizarre taste in hats, though Blue supposed that it made sense, since the district was in charge of producing textiles. The girl was wearing a puffed-up white hat that resembled a marshmallow over her curved brown pigtails, and the boy sported a white hat with spikes. Blue could swear that she saw him shake his head at the Peacekeepers' uniforms, his lip curling in disapproval as he examined them head to toe.

The curvy blond girl from District 9, the grain district, cried when they called her name, as did a man who Blue guessed had to be her father, and the slightly chubby boy seemed like he was in a daze as the Peacekeepers marched him on stage, a cookie he had been eating still clutched in his hand. The girl from District 10, which was in charge of livestock, had dark brown skin and hair to rival the District 6 girl's, almost as tall as and thicker than she was, held in place by yellow bands. The boy waved and grinned at the camera when he was chosen, disentangling himself from a group of Pokemon. He tried to skateboard his way onstage, but the Peacekeepers took it away, and he scowled through his fringe of dark hair as they dragged him up on his feet.

Most striking was District 11, the agriculture district, where a small girl with a long blond ponytail was reaped and led onto the stage. The audience murmured in dissent, the way they always did when one of the younger kids was chosen, but when the escort called for volunteers, no one spoke up. Blue's heart clenched as the girl gripped her straw hat in her fingers, staring down with wide green eyes. A fragile-looking boy with light green hair was called after her, coughing lightly as Peacekeepers ushered him onstage.

_It's not looking good for District 11 this year_, Blue thought grimly.

Finally, the screen shifted to District 12, and she relaxed. The replays rearranged the districts in order by number, even though the reapings didn't necessarily occur that way during the day; 12's, she knew, actually took place at noon. Part of the reason it happened was probably so that people didn't have to wait to see who the Career tributes could see, and so that District 12 was placed at the end. As one of the poorest districts with the least victors—only two in seventy-four years, one of which was still alive—the coal mining district was a bit of a joke.

This year, a girl with long brown hair fastened by a pink bow was chosen, along with a boy with red hair that hung listlessly to his shoulders and a sullen scowl that could rival Green's. Blue felt something tug at her heart at the sight of the boy. There was a dull absence of hope in his grayish eyes as he stared out into the crowd.

She was expecting the Panem anthem to play after that like it did every year, but something was wrong. The screen was changing, but not to the usual Panem news with its blue background and announcers with their accents and their bizarre Capitol couture. Blue craned her neck, perplexed. Instead, what came on was the rich, paneled wood and plush seats of the auditorium in President Harmonia's mansion that flashed onto the screen, filled with Capitol officials and some of the richer citizens—though everyone in the Capitol was rich—and buzzing with excited murmurs of anticipation. She cast an alarmed glance at Green beside her, who was staring ahead with a furrowed brow. Even Volkner was frowning.

"What's going on?" she asked, but Green shushed her.

She opened her mouth to retort, then shut it as, to her surprise, President Ghetsis Harmonia himself strode onto the stage with a sweeping flourish of his floor-length cape.

The President of Panem looked as odd and extravagant as ever, tea-green looks streaming past his shoulders and curling into the exquisite shelf of blue gems and P-emblazoned crest that made up his collar. Pieces of hair curved lethally from his ears and from the top of his head like scimitars. His cape billowed around him with its pattern of eyes, as if echoing the shiny red eye patch that covered his right eye. Blue suspected that his fine, chiseled cheekbones and white teeth had been surgically altered, but that was no surprise. Everyone in the Capitol perfected—or tried to perfect—themselves that way.

The people in the audience hushed as he opened is mouth and began to speak.

"Hello, hello," Ghetsis greeted in his smooth, oozing voice. It always reminded Blue of molten metal, somehow, sharp and slimy at the same time. "Happy Hungry Pokemon Games to you all, and, as always, may the odds be ever in your favor." A few people in the audience cheered, and he waved his hand, a mock-humble smile playing across his face. "No, no, no need for that, my friends, I know how excited we _all_ are for this year's fesitivites." He grinned, his teeth flashing in the light of the cameras, and paused. If nothing else, Blue thought, Ghetsis Harmonia had certainly mastered the art of dramatic pauses.

_The districts aren't excited, you asshole_, she thought, but of course, that was the point.

"But," the president went on, lifting a delicate white finger in the air, "I have an announcement to make that will perhaps serve to make your excitement even…greater."

"What the hell is going on?" Green muttered next to him, but this time, it was Volkner who shushed him.

"Listen, you two. This must be important."

"It better be," Green grumbled, but he fell silent.

On the screen, Ghetsis smiled, lowering his head so that the cameras caught the sharp line of his jawbone.

"This year, my friends in and all across Panem, we shall not have twenty-four tributes."

The audience buzzed with excitement at his statement.

"What do you mean?" people were muttering.

"Not twenty-four?"

"How many, then?"

"What happened to tradition?"

"This isn't the way it's done every year!"

"Fear not, fear not, my friends," Ghetsis reassured them, holding up a finger as his smile widened, like the blade of a knife slicing his face in two. The crowd quieted. "None of your precious tributes will be taken _away_ from the Games. Oh no, in fact, the Games could use some…new life, don't you think?" He smirked as murmurs rose among the audience, a mixture of relief and confusion. "No, my friends, we will have no less than twenty-four tributes." As Blue watched, the genial smile dropped from his face, and for a moment, his eyes wide and icy gray, Ghetsis looked positively _vicious_. "We will have twenty-five."

"Who?" she blurted out loud. This had never happened before, not on years when it wasn't a Quarter Quell. Panic rose inside her chest; had the president chosen some sort of super-tribute who would come in and decimate all the rest? Or was it one of his political enemies? Either way, it decreased the odds for her, didn't it? "Why—why is this happening?"

Green sighed. "Quiet, pesky girl."

_Pesky girl?_ Blue pouted. Who did he think he—

"I have no idea," Volkner answered, much more politely than her fellow tribute. "We just have to keep watching."

Ghetsis turned then, the cape billowing behind him as he donned a smile again, but a different one this time—gentle, kind, almost _loving_—and called out toward the corner of the stage:

"Come on, come out, now, N."

_N?_ But wasn't that…

Blue watched, awestruck, as from the curtain draped on either side of the stage, a tall, lanky boy with a ponytail of tangled green hair emerged, his shoulders hunched, shaking as he stepped forward and struggled to place one foot in front of the other. He was dressed very differently from his father and from anyone in the Capitol—dressed like a regular citizen from one of the districts, Blue realized, in a simple collared shirt, khaki pants, and dark green sneakers. The boy's mouth was quivering, she saw as the camera zoomed in on him, his hands dangling listlessly on either side of his body. He stared down at his feet as he approached President Harmonia, except no, he wasn't just the president, the president was his—

"My son," Ghetsis announced slowly, almost lovingly. He raised his hand and then set it gently on the boy's head, burying it in the green of his hair, the same green as his own. His eyes shone with admiration.

N's voice quavered when he spoke.

"D-Daddy"—Blue could swear that the president's eyes flashed for a moment, and N quailed, swallowing and correcting himself quickly—"I-I mean Father."

The vicious look in Harmonia's eyes disappeared, replaced by the gentle gleam so quickly it was if it had never been there. He lifted his hand from his son's head and turned toward the camera with a smile.

"Forgive him, friends of Panem. My son has a bit of stage fright."

The audience's ensuing laughter made Blue feel sick to her stomach. N dipped his head toward his chest, looking as if he was holding back tears.

"I don't understand," she murmured out loud. "Why…how could Ghetsis be sending in his own son? Unless he isn't really…"

"I don't know," Volkner said, and for the first time, his voice was tight, pinched with something that sounded suspiciously like fear. "But it's Ghetsis Harmonia, so he must have some kind of plan."

"Even the audience doesn't get it," Green pointed out.

It was true; quiet whispers and murmurs were rippling through the officials and Capitol citizens in the seats. No one dared raise a voice against Harmonia, Blue realized, but they were questioning his decision. They had to be.

"Ah," Ghetsis spoke up again, an understanding grin spreading across his pale face as he gazed out at his audience. N shrank next to him, as if he were willing himself to disappear, green hair drooping over his eyes. "You must be wondering, my friends, if and why the president is sending his own son into the Hungry Pokemon Games. Well, the districts have always been the only ones who can carry out the honor and celebration of the Games, by sending their own tributes to Panem. A sacrifice they make, but also one they pay to Panem to bring us all together."

_Unwillingly_, Blue thought._ You're forgetting to add unwillingly._

"Why should the Capitol not join in the honor?" Ghetsis continued, sobering. "Why should we not show them, my friends, how important the Games really are to us?" His eyes flashed with intensity again. "As much as it pains me, as a father, to see my son grow up this way, I find it a necessary step to take, my friends, to bind us all together even further. To show our beloved districts that we are all in this together. That we will not stop the tradition of the Games, that we will not stop paying the price of our actions, for anything. If I am willing to make this sacrifice, joining hands with the districts…then they should be, too."

"Grow up?" Blue exclaimed indignantly. "His son's never _going_ to grow up now!"

"Shh," snapped Green.

The audience had grown quiet during his speech. They turned to each other now, whispers traveling and rising among them. Blue couldn't see their faces, only the backs of their heads, their hair curled and styled and dyed all sorts of bright, bizarre colors, but she heard the worried tones in their voices. As she listened, she caught a whisper of, "He's right, it's not just the districts." from the TV.

"But…he's from the Capitol," someone else mumbled. "And he could die."

_What's the big fuss?_ she thought sarcastically, anger flaring in her chest._ You never seem to care when it's the kids from the districts._

"If nothing else, my friends, I would have you hear it from my son. After all, I would never propose such a thing to the child I love most, without his wanting to do the honor himself." Ghetsis leaned forward in a sweeping bow, ignoring the murmurs. As he rose, he turned to N, his cloak fluttering around him.

"And what do you have to say about this, N?"

His voice was encouraging, but something about it made Blue's skin crawl; the hint of a threat lingered underneath his smooth syllables, sharp spines nicking at the surface.

She watched intently as N took a deep breath, his chest quivering under the thin white fabric of his shirt, and faced the audience. His hands were shaking by his sides. He quickly rolled them into fists.

"I want to do this for the glory of the Capitol," he said in a flat voice, as if he were reciting something he had memorized. He spoke quickly. His voice had already changed, but the weird, stuttering spurts he spoke in made him sound strangely like a child.

Ghetsis raised his eyebrows, staring at him expectantly. His eyes darting toward his father, N took another breath and puffed his chest out, raising his voice.

"For the glory and bounty of Panem." He hesitated. "And…and for the Pokemon."

For a moment, Blue could swear that Ghetsis's eyebrows knit into a dark glare at the third part. _Did N add that on himself?_ she wondered, but before she could think about it any further, the president's face relaxed as quickly as it had tensed.

"That's my son," he said, nodding, and turned toward the audience with a proud grin. "That's my son!"

The people started applauding, and a few cheers rang out. They sounded almost relieved. After all, Blue figured, if they heard it from N himself, if the boy wanted to go in himself, then they could keep telling themselves that there was nothing wrong with the situation.

"Besides," Ghetsis proclaimed over their applause, "every boy should undertake a rite of passage to prove himself and become a man. This will be my dear son N's. The greatest rite of all, for the greatest man of all. After all," he said, turning and smiling in that sickening way of his, "he _will_ be taking my place as President of Panem once _my_ day comes."

_And it won't for a long while, if I have anything to say about it_, said the gleam in his eye. The sight of it and his icy smooth, sickly sweet voice made Blue shiver.

The officials and citizens had stopped talking now, though his statement met with a few scattered claps of approval. They were all staring up at him, leaning back in their seats in silent anticipation. President Harmonia gazed down at them with a sickening, fatherly smile, and Blue looked on disgust as he grabbed N's limp wrist and hoisted it into the hair. The boy stared out at them with blank blue eyes. He was mouthing something to himself, Blue realized, something she couldn't make out on his lips.

"So I present to you…N Harmonia, Tribute Number Twenty-Five of the seventy-fourth annual Hungry Pokemon Games!" Ghetsis roared, and this time, the audience didn't hesitate to burst into cheers.

The trumpets of the Panem anthem finally blared over the sound of their applause. As the camera zoomed in on N and Ghetsis one last time, Blue could see Ghetsis's face, proud and hard and cold, and she could see N still whispering to himself, his face soft where Ghetsis was all sharp, cruel angles. The camera lingered on them for a few more moments, cheers still ringing out in the background, and then the anthem faded and the screen changed again. The regular blue screen of Panem News appeared, and Blue heard the anchors saying something about the shortage of wheat from District 9 this month.

Volkner clicked a button on the remote, and the TV shut off, leaving the compartment in uncomfortable silence.

"Well, this doesn't change much," he said.

Green turned and stared at him as if he were insane.

"What are you talking about?" he snapped incredulously. "This changes _everything_."

"Politically, yes." Volkner held up his hand. "But strategically? No." He let out his breath, facing both of them. "You saw Harmonia's son. Even if he _is_ Tribute Number Twenty-Five, as Ghetsis called him, did he look anything like a threat to either of you?"

Blue remembered the quiver in N's chest and mouth, his thin, lanky limbs, the way he carried himself, head hanging and shoulders drooping like a little child. Slowly, though it felt like someone had grabbed her heart and was wringing it in their hands, she shook her head. Green did the same next to her.

"Precisely." Volkner nodded. "He's no threat to you. Far from. In fact, I'd bet that he's not going to make it past a day or two." He paused, frowning. "And believe me, Ghetsis definitely knows that."

"Then why in the world is he sending him in?" Blue asked, bewildered.

"I don't know, honestly." Volkner's next words sent a chill down her spine. "But what I do know is that this means that, for whatever reason…Ghetsis Harmonia wants to kill his son."


	3. Chapter Three

_Author's Note:_

Wow, thanks for all the feedback, guys! I enjoyed reading your guesses of the tributes (which were all extremely accurate, by the way). Their identities will be gradually revealed and made even more obvious throughout this chapter and the next few.

This chapter contains more counterparts, which are always fun to write! Not to mention the ceremony, which you know means..._outfits_. Duhn duhn duhn. I had a lot of fun thinking of these. Not to mention plot development with Ghetsis. Very suspenseful.

Hope you enjoy, as always, and please review!

A note: You don't have to do this, of course, but if you read the opening ceremony part while listening to the Panem anthem from the movie, called "Horn of Plenty," it's pretty epic. That is a seriously awesome piece of the score there. In fact, it might be worth your while to look it up anyway. Adds to the atmosphere. :)

* * *

**Chapter Three**

"Why the hell would he want to kill his son?"

Volkner shrugged at Green's question, turning his palms upward. "Who knows? It's President Harmonia. You never do know with these politicians." He unwrapped another candy from the bowl and crunched it in between his teeth. "Maybe the boy knows something he doesn't want him to. Maybe he actually wants some justice done in the districts for once. Maybe the boy's out to get him for the presidency."

"N?" Blue couldn't help but laugh at the thought, even though laughing was one of the last things she felt like doing right then. "Really? I seriously doubt that."

"It just doesn't seem to make any sense," Green scoffed, kicking at the floor. His eyebrows were knit in a brooding glare. "I mean, Harmonia said it himself. N's next in line if he dies. So wouldn't he want his son to live? So he can take his place if he has to?"

"Well, maybe he doesn't _want_ anyone to take his place, if you ever thought of that," Volkner said lightly. He let out a yawn and raked his fingers through his hair. Blue had never known before that a yawn could be so attractive on a person. "Anyway, what does it matter? He poses no threat to you two. You should be focusing on the other tributes, the ones who might actually hurt you. Did you see the Careers? I mean, the other Careers."

"That District 2 girl looked pretty lethal," Blue remarked, remembering those sharp fangs.

"Yeah, whatever," Green said irritably. He still seemed fixated on the question of why the president wanted to kill his son in the first place. Blue, on the other hand, welcomed the distraction. The vulnerable look in N's blue eyes was not something she wanted to think about when she had to prepare herself to fight. And kill. Possibly N himself.

They heard a knock on the door of the compartment, and as it slid open, Misty Waterflower poked her orange head in.

"Would any of you care for some lunch now?" she asked perkily.

"Lunch sounds great," Volkner answered, stretching so that everyone in the room could see the toned muscles in his arms. "What about you two?"

"I could go for some food," Blue agreed.

"Sure, whatever." Green still looked annoyed.

"Okay." Misty beamed. "Food is served in the other compartment."

They followed the bounce of her bubbled hem and her ponytail down the hall. "Aren't you two lucky," the escort gushed as they walked. "You have a short ride, so it's the only meal you two have to eat on the train. Though you're always welcome to snacks whenever you want, of course."

_One less meal to go_, Blue thought grimly as they slid open the door of the food compartment, _before_… She cut the thought short.

If the candies in the other compartment had been delicious, it turned out that they were nothing compared to the spring green soup, pesto pasta, fruit salad, and mashed potatoes that they had for lunch. After the endless taste of one fish after another for almost every meal in District 4, Blue couldn't help but gorge herself on almost every dish, and she saw Green doing the same across the table. Misty had to remind them not to eat too much, since more food was coming later. If the meal was a taste of Capitol food, Blue would gladly have lived in the Capitol forever.

Though, of course, she couldn't.

"We're almost at the Capitol now," Misty said excitedly after they finished eating. A few quiet, nameless people—servants, Blue wondered?—who kept their heads lowered came by to clean it up, taking it to another compartment on their carts, and the four of them rose to head to the first compartment. The train ride had only taken about two hours, Blue figured. Districts on the east coast of Panem would take at least five to reach the Capitol.

"What's it like?" she couldn't help asking Volkner as they sat down again. Outside the window, the terrain was now completely mountainous, the tracks the train was rumbling on winding around the peaks. The sun had grown brighter and warmed the seats for them through the glass. Blue liked the way it felt through the fabric of her skirt.

"Haven't you seen the Capitol on TV?" he answered.

"Well, of course," she said, rolling her eyes, "but I mean, what's it like being there?"

Volkner sniffed, and for a moment, she thought she saw a shadow flit through his electric blue eyes. "It's big," he said. "Everything's shiny, and clean, and glossy. It'll take some getting used to after all that sand in District 4. The buildings are big and gold. The people are dressed funny and have weird colors in their hair, but you already know that." He shrugged. "Other than that, there's not much to say."

"Do you go there often?"

Again, she saw the shadow pass through the blue like a cloud on a summer day, and wondered why she had bothered to ask. Volkner grimaced.

"I do, but not all of the victors do."

"Why?" Blue asked, but before he could answer, Misty let out a high-pitched squeal and thrust her finger at the window.

"Look! There it is!"

Green trailed into the compartment after them, and he peered outside with poorly hidden curiosity at her exclamation. Blue leaned forward eagerly, her hair brushing against the table.

Volkner had been right; the Capitol was certainly big, and as golden as he had described, rising out of a crack in the cliffs like a sudden plume of smoke. As they turned the corner, she could see domes and towers stretch across of a huge, flattened clearing in the mountains that Blue assumed had been made by humans, sunlight glistening off their roofs. Streets wound their way between the buildings, and beyond, a waterfall streamed into a clear blue pool that also had to have been carved by human machines.

She drank it all in with wide eyes, not bothering to hide her awe. There was no way you could get around it; the Capitol was every bit as striking as it looked on TV, and then some. Even Green looked impressed.

"There it is, there it is!" Misty was still going on, practically hopping from one foot to the other. "And we're almost at the station! Oh, all the people there will be _so_ excited to see you!"

_She lives there,_ Blue thought skeptically. _Shouldn't we be the excited ones?_

Not that she wasn't, leaning forward so that her nose was almost pressed against the glass of the window. The train circled around the dazzling buildings, and Blue could see gardens curling their lush green vines behind the shimmering walls, stone paths winding their way through the plants. She felt the train dip down and around mountains, wrapping around rocks and weaving around cliffsides, and she wondered if this was it felt like to be on a rollercoaster. None of the districts had rollercoasters, of course, but she had read about them in school and seen the pictures, where people's facial expressions seemed to indicate that they were experiencing some kind of cross between the greatest thrill of their lives, and a torture device.

In Panem, the Hungry Pokemon Games more than sufficed for that.

"Oh, look, there they are!" Misty squealed again, pointing. This time she actually rushed forward, her high heels smacking against the floor. "The people! They're waiting for you! And look—they're waving!"

Blue craned her neck and leaned forward even further, her chest almost pressing against the edge of the table. At first, she only saw the glistening top of another golden roof, a rectangular building stretching across the street. She blinked; from what she had seen so far, the Capitol was like a giant mirror, reflecting the sun into her eyes. And then, as the train turned and a shadow of a mountain peak above them fell over the window, she glimpsed them, standing under the canopy of what she had thought was a rectangular building and was in fact an open train station, the roof shielding the people standing underneath like a tent: like tiny flecks of color, garish pinks and blues and greens and yellows that, if she used her imagination, she could see were people.

The train sped forward, and the flecks gradually grew and sharpened in her eyesight; she could make out hair, with ridiculous feathers and jewels and hats perched and fastened inside it; she could make out the brightly colored outfits and accessories; she could distinguish one person from another, skin ranging from pale to dark to dyed all sorts of unnatural hues. The Capitol surrounded them now, unblocked by the mountains, everywhere she looked she could see walls and columns of gold and glass and metal, doors and arches yawning and opening their arms to them. She could make out individual buildings of the city, like a rich version of some of the urban districts, which 4 was not, districts like 3 and 5 and 8. Shiny cars rolled along the streets, and people walked along beside them. When they saw the train, they stopped and pointed, excitement lighting up their exotic, painted faces. She could hear the shouts from outside the window, noisy, exhilarated, as men and women nudged their friends and hoisted their children up in their arms to get a better look at Blue. A few even picked up the Pokemon pets scurrying alongside them.

They were cheering, she realized. Cheering…for her and Green's deaths.

Unless…

Volkner's words echoed in her ears: _Sponsors_. _Your attitude. Even now…smiling and making jokes…_

Blue brushed her hair over her shoulder as she gazed down at the Capitol citizens, so bizarre they looked more like Pokemon than people to her, and then she lifted her hand and waved.

She heard Green turn toward her and grinned, imagining the surprise twisting his handsome features. The people kept pointing as she flashed a smile and beamed at them. She winked and kept on waving, first with one hand and then the other, feeling her own face light up with enthusiasm. Next to her, Green crossed his arms, gazing impassively down at the waving people. For a moment, she considered telling him to join her, but she knew his answer would be no. And it wouldn't be any good if they saw him scowl at her, would it?

"What?" she chirped instead, still grinning. "One of them might be rich."

Volkner looked up and gave her a nod of approval.

They were pulling into the station now, and Blue kept smiling and waving at the throngs waiting for them there. They were even more crowded than those on the streets, and cameras flashed as reporters shoved their way forward, knocking people aside. The golden roof closed over her head as the train slid in on the tracks, and she could hear their shouts and hollers louder than ever.

"Come on," Misty whispered excitedly, nibbling on her nails. She looked as if she was going to pee her pants, Blue thought. The train slowed smoothly to a stop. "Come on, you two. Time to get off. Time to go to the Capitol. Oh my gosh, they're going to be so excited to see you…"

"They're going to take you to your prep team now," Volkner told them, walking behind as they shuffled forward, Misty nudging them forward with her hands on their shoulders. "They're going to get you ready for your stylist. You probably won't like all the things they do to you, but don't resist. Might not seem like it, but it's a key part to your survival."

It struck Blue as odd that the first thing they did to the tributes who would eventually be slaughtered and brutally murdered by their fellow teenagers was to deck them out in fancy clothes and make them as pretty as possible, but hey, that was the spirit of the Hungry Pokemon Games. The better-looking tributes always got more sponsors, Volkner being a prime example. Humans were shallow, but that was the way it was.

Misty showed a surprisingly fierce side as she ushered Blue and Green through the camera-filled crowds, kicking aside reporters and overly enthusiastic fans alike with her high heels and yelling in a shockingly psychotic manner. "THESE ARE THE TRIBUTES, DAMN IT," she hollered, "SO LET THEM THROUGH OR I'LL KICK YOU!" Volkner trailed behind and smirked smoothly at the cameras, waving and winking at various people in the crowd. Which turned out to be even more effective than Misty at carving their way through, since as soon as they saw him, reporters gasped and tripped over themselves in their rush to turn their cameras on _him_.

"Well, that was fun." Blue winked at Green as they finally made it under the shelter of the roof. He snorted and turned away.

She paused, peering after him for a moment, at the chiseled curve of his jaw and the tufts of light brown hair that billowed slightly in the breeze from the train. What was up with him? Obviously none of them were happy to be here, but there was obviously something bothering him. Something that kept him from being friendly to anyone. And Blue was sure that it wasn't just the fact that she annoyed him for some reason—okay, enjoyed annoying him a little—okay, fine, a lot. He had such a stick up his ass that it was hard to resist.

She turned back and stared at the room around them.

The inside of the building—the Remake Center, it was called, located conveniently right behind the train station—was as spacious and clean as anything she had ever seen. Beyond the window of the lobby where they were standing, people scurried about in between stalls separated by panes of glass so glossy she could see her own reflection in them but layered so that she couldn't see what lay on their other side. They served as shelves, where sharp, expensive-looking equipment and bottles of what she guessed was lotion and shampoo sat perched. Blue gulped at the metal instruments. They wouldn't be using those on the tributes, would they?

Volkner and Misty led them over to a desk, where the two of them signed in. The woman there pricked their fingers with a sharp metal instrument that drew a dot of blood. Blue watched as her name flashed on the computer screen. Green did the same. The woman nodded at them, and they stepped through the door.

"This way, this way, tributes!" a man called, stepping out of one of the stalls and beckoning them over. He sniffed as he looked both of them up and down, wrinkling his nose in distaste. "My, my, the prep teams really will have a lot to do with you." He pointed at Blue. "You'll be in here"—he jerked his thumb toward one of the stalls—"and you"—to Green, gesturing at another stall—"in there."

"Remember what I said," Volkner called after them as he and Misty walked off, the latter gushing excitedly in his ear.

_Don't resist_, Blue remembered.

"See you later, cutie," she chirped, waving, and pretended not to hear Green's mutter of "_Annoying woman_" as he turned around the corner and disappeared.

"Who was that?" a male voice called out instantly as she stepped in between the panes of glass. "Your boyfriend?"

Blue started, swerving her head from side to side. Where was that voice coming from?

"What? No—"

"That would be unfortunate, now wouldn't it?" a second voice rang out. "Doomed to kill your own boyfriend. How _tragic_."

"He's not my—"

"Come on, guys," said a third voice, this one softer and friendlier than the others. "Let's be friendly, now. We should introduce ourselves." She heard a rustle, and then he called out, "Coming, now."

A door swung open in front of her, making her jump. Blue watched as from behind it, out stepped three men—or at least Blue was pretty sure they were men—who looked exactly identical except for their hair.

They were all wearing outfits that reminded her of waiters, though waiters who were far more concerned with their style than whatever food they would be serving, with black vests buttoned over crisply pressed shirts, white aprons fastened with bowties, and pleated black pants. Golden buttons gleamed on their chests. It was uncanny how their bowties matched the precise shades of their hair colors, which were definitely the exciting part of the trio. One of them had red hair that curled and rose above his head in the shape of a flame, licking at the air with an impressive poofiness, one had blue hair swept to the side and braided down his chest, and one light green hair that lay flat on his head and more or less looked normal, save for a flair that rose in front like a tuft of grass. In proper Capitol fashion.

"Ooh, a pretty one, aren't you?" said the blue one.

Blue brushed her hair over her shoulder. "Thank you," she giggled. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad, after all.

"I'm Cilan," the green one piped up, "and these are my brothers. We'll be your prep team for today, getting you ready for Elesa." He bowed. He was the nice one with the soft voice, Blue realized.

"Chili!" the red one barked, punching his fist into the air. "I'm the hottest one, as you can see! YEOWWWW."

"And I'm Cress." The blue one bowed his head politely, as if his brother hadn't just yelled loud enough to make one of the people scurrying by drop their tray of equipment and earn a fierce scolding from the man who had ushered them in. "Pleased to make your acquaintance."

"And what's your name?" asked the green one, Cilan, smiling kindly at her.

She smiled back. "I'm Blue."

"Like my hair!" Cress exclaimed, flicking his wrist with an elegant flourish. "A sign of good luck. This means I should start on you, then, don't you say, brothers?"

The other two hummed in agreement and gave her a thin blue robe to change into, pointing toward the door they had come out of. "We'll do most of our work in there," Cilan explained. "This place is just for the preliminary stuff."

Blue nodded and walked through the door. Inside, there were more shelves filled with various lotions and boxes and trays of equipment, along with a flat, hospital-like bed. She kicked off her shoes and then stripped off her tank top and skirt, pulling the robe over her head.

"I'm ready," she called out.

The door swung open, and the brothers filed in. "Wonderful," said Cress, clapping his hands. "Now, if you would just lie down…"

Blue did, climbing up and reclining flat on her back. The next minutes, or hours, whatever it was, seemed to pass by quickly. At first, she was self-conscious of their murmurs around her as, she guessed, they pointed out various things to each other about her body. It only got worse after they told her to take off the robe.

"Oh, don't worry," Chili said, winking. "You're not our type." Cilan shushed him, turning a bright shade of red. Blue wasn't sure whether to be more or less worried after that.

She soon relaxed, however, when she realized that none of them were paying attention to anything about her body except how to fix it up. In fact, the three of them were so bizarre, so brightly colored, that they were more like Pokemon than anything, like flying Pokemon fluttering over her. Her anxiety melted away completely when they ran a soothing spray of warm water over her body. Then came the sponges, which were less pleasant as they scrubbed away at her skin so fiercely she felt as if she was being rubbed raw, taking off grit and layers of sea-toughened skin underneath. She heard mutters of "sand" and "salt" and "ugh, all this dirt!" and "those District 4 barbarians, always fooling around in the sea." After some hurrying about and pulling things from the glass shelves, they plastered sticky strips of fabric on her legs and then yanked them off, making her wince.

"I'm sorry!" Cilan exclaimed. "You're just so _hairy_!"

Blue tried not to take offense. They were Capitolites, after all, she reminded herself. "Not much time to worry about shaving when the only people you have to impress are the fish," she said cheerily.

The three of them giggled. "That's true, you poor dear," Cress clucked.

"But don't worry, you'll be hot in no time! Even hotter than me!" This time Blue was ready for Chili's roar of "YEOWWWW," which he synchronized with a painful rip of one of the strips from her leg. She tried not to yelp in pain.

"Last one!" Cilan reassured as she winced, his hands fluttering over his mouth in distress.

"Andddd now you're ready for Elesa!" exclaimed Chili, flinging it aside. "By the time she's through with you, you'll be absolutely gorgeous! Like fire! OW OW!"

"Now that we've gotten rid of that filth and hair, you're actually not terrible at all," said Cress with a suave nod of approval. He clapped his hands. "Let's send for Elesa, then!"

"Bye!" Blue called after them as they scuttled out of the room. Despite their ridiculous Capitol affectations, the triplets were adorable, in a way. And she knew that in their bizarre, idiotic way, they were genuinely trying to help her.

A moment later, a knock sounded on the door, and Blue called out, "Come in."

The door swung open, and a very tall, thin woman wearing a yellow tank top and long black leggings stepped inside. On her head, she wore a bizarre contraption that resembled headphones, except that the black wires stretched all the way to the ground. Blue couldn't tell for a moment if her hair was blond, or if it was only a cap that was attached to the headphones. Judging by the way the light caught each individual yellow strand, she decided it was hair. There was something impeccably graceful about the way she walked, she noticed with a slight pang of envy, her yellow high heels landing delicately, yet somehow dangerously, against the floor. So different from the way the other Capitol women she had seen clumsily clacked their way around.

After her prep team, she had been expecting someone flamboyant and fussy who would pounce on her the moment he or she entered. Instead, Elesa held her gaze her for a moment with icy blue eyes, and then nodded.

"Hello, Blue," she said. Her voice was quiet, cool, and surprisingly mellifluous, but with a crisp, sharp edge that Blue didn't doubt could cut if the occasion called for it. "I'm Elesa. I'll be your stylist this year."

"Hi," Blue replied. She couldn't help but stare at her curiously, cocking her head to the side. She didn't remember ever seeing Elesa before. Most of the stylists were familiar faces in the Games, but, she thought, would have remembered Elesa's. "Are you new, by any chance?"

Elesa's high heels clicked rhythmically against the floor as she circled Blue, slowly, taking in her body with a cool, appraising look. Blue resisted the urge to cover herself.

"I used to model," Elesa explained as she continued her circling, not taking her eyes off Blue, "but then I switched to being a stylist. It's more…to my taste, I find."

"Oh." It took no stretch of the imagination to picture her as a model. "Well, I hope you make a good one!"

"I do, too." Elesa nodded coolly. "You can put on your robe, now," she said. "We'll just talk about what to do for your costume for the opening ceremony."

Blue was glad that Elesa averted her unsettling pale eyes as she slipped back into the cloth. What idea would she have up her sleeve for the ceremony, she wondered? Each of the districts' stylists clothed the tributes each year in some costume that reflected the district's industry. Fruit and flowers were a common sight for District 11, the producer of agriculture, as were ranchers' outfits for 10, with their livestock theme. Something shiny and glittery usually sufficed for the luxury district of 1. District 4 usually ended up in something blue or scaled, most of the time skimpy. The ocean, luckily, was an easy theme to dress up.

The opening costumes didn't seem like it, but they were actually surprisingly important in making a first impression on the Capitol. One year, the stylists had left the District 12 tributes naked and covered them with coal dust from head to toe. No one had liked the outfits, so the tributes hadn't won any sponsors and had ended up dying early on. Of course, Blue didn't really have to worry about that as a Career. Or a faux Career. Whatever she was.

"So…do you have any ideas for us?" she piped up.

Elesa finished pacing and stopped in front of Blue. "My partner, Burgh, is the stylist for Green," she began. For a moment, Blue pictured Green in the same situation, naked and being scrutinized by some strange Capitol man. She imagined he would be scowling.

She quickly banished the image from her mind. _The Games must be making you even more nervous than you thought_, she scolded herself. _No more picturing people naked._

"We've decided that you two should be in complementary costumes, of course," Elesa continued once Blue brought her attention back. "And, of course, we're going to stick with the water theme of your district."

"Am I going to be in scales?" Blue asked. A dress of shimmering scales wouldn't be bad, she mused dreamily. So sue her if she had always had a weakness for beauty. There was hardly any time for it in the district.

"Not exactly." Elesa didn't bat an eyelash. "Burgh and I think that the scales theme is very overdone. No one will remember you in that. And it's our job to make sure that the District 4 tributes this year are…unforgettable."

It was going to be a skimpy blue bikini for sure, Blue thought. Oh, well. She could handle that.

"We thought we would focus less on the water this year…and more on the Pokemon that live in it."

Pokemon. That perked her curiosity. Once in a while, a stylist would go by that theme, too, dressing a district up in a Pokemon that was found in the district or that represented what it did. What Pokemon, Blue wondered? A water type, obviously. It had to be something pretty, or at least striking. Vaporeon? Milotic? Gyarados?

Elesa cracked the tiniest hint of a smile.

"Specifically…Suicune."

"Suicune?" A legendary Pokemon! Blue pictured it, purple mane and white ribbons of mist flowing behind its head, its snout pointed forward, crest raised in the air, regal and majestic. Of course, no one had ever seen it, but it was rumored to live in District 4, far out in the ocean, one of the great legends she had seen glorified in so many pictures at school. "We're going to be dressed up…like Suicune?"

"Suicune walks on water." The grin widened across Elesa's face, and a mischievous light danced in her blue eyes for the first time since Blue had seen her. "You're not afraid to walk on water, are you?"

* * *

A few hours later, they were ready. Blue's heart fluttered nervously as they stood at the entrance to the city, a giant arch that marked the beginning of their parade throughout the Capitol. She could hear the Capitol citizens who lined the streets outside whispering excitedly to each other as they waited for the annual procession of the tributes. As always, they would be marching through the city on chariots led by horses so well-trained they didn't even need a driver and stopping at the City Circle, where they would then be escorted into the Traning Center where they would be staying until the Games.

District 4's chariot was colored a pale, pearly gold, like sand on the beach at sunset, with shells engraved into the corners. Blue could see it ahead on the path, parked behind the first three chariots.

Green gave her a once-over and a scoff when he arrived a few minutes later, led out of the Remake Center by his stylist. Burgh turned out to be an absurd-looking man with a generous mane of brown hair, a pink scarf, a bright green V-neck, and a pair of pants with variegated stripes of pink, green, and navy blue that was held around his waist with a butterfly pin. His shoes were slippers of pink and lime green that echoed the same color scheme. He moved his arms with wild, looping gestures and rose his voice with a loud, flamboyant way of speaking. To Blue's surprise, he and Elesa seemed to be great friends, leaning their heads close to chatter to each other as they walked up to the chariots, though she couldn't think of any two people who could be more different.

On the other hand, she and Green weren't talking, but they looked exactly the same now that they were wearing the same outfit. They were both draped in an impossibly soft, shimmering blue fabric with white diamonds embroidered along the sides and a white column in the middle of the front, the exact colors of the mythical Suicune. The sleeves seemed to float and billow like foam around their elbows. Blue had never known such a silky, smooth fabric could exist. The outfit was finished with a blue skirt that fluttered around her legs like waves, but no one would see that when they were on the chariot. Green wore pants of the same material. On her head perched the tall, regal, stone-blue crest of the Pokemon, rough enough to look like real rock but with a sheen that reflected the luxor of the Capitol. Underneath, her hair flowed free, combed and conditioned until it waved behind her like water.

But the best part of their costume was the part that hadn't yet been revealed. When Burgh and Elesa pulled at a piece of fabric at the back of their outfits, ribbons of mist would stream out and billow behind them as they rode, purple and white, flowing just like water, like the mists of Suicune. The people were sure to understand what they represented: the Aurora Pokemon. The northern wind. The most beautiful, graceful Pokemon of them all. The Pokemon that could walk on water.

_If_ it worked, of course.

"I want people to remember you when you're in the arena," Elesa said dreamily as they climbed onto the chariot, settling themselves back on the seats. "Blue, the girl who walked on water."

Blue decided that under Elesa's calm exterior hid the mind of a madwoman.

She jumped, her heart pounding, as the Panem anthem began to blare around the city, eliciting gasps and _ooh_s and _aah_s from the citizens outside the arch. Biting her lip, she smoothed down her skirt and felt Green tense next to her. The ceremony was beginning.

As the music crescendoed, District 1's chariot, painted a stunning, glittering silver, galloped out of the shadows, and the crowds erupted in a cheer, applause raining around them. Districts 1 and 2 always won the most enthusiastic applause, seeing as they were the most well put-together, not to mention that one or the other usually won. Blue craned her neck to see the tributes, before remembering that giant screens mounted around the city would broadcast their procession as they went, so that they could see themselves as they paraded around the streets.

She looked up, locating one on top of a building nearby, just in time to see Eusine Flickerman, the announcer and interviewer of the Games, appearing on screen with a dramatic toss of his white cape. Eusine had hosted the interviews for more than thirty years, though he himself had hardly changed at all during those years. Always the same smooth, pale skin, the same flashy white teeth, the same sparkling blue eyes, the same slicked back hair that he dyed a different color each year for the Games. This year, it looked like he had decided to go _au naturel_ in a shocking turn of events, leaving it pale brown but still as glossy as ever. Underneath, he sported a bright purple suit with diamonds similar to Blue's.

"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen!" he announced in his familiar brassy voice. "You're here with us in the streets of the Capitol, watching the opening ceremonies of the seventy-fourth annual Hungry Pokemon Games! I'm your announcer and interviewer, Eusine Flickerman, and I'll be hosting the ceremony for today—as always." Eusine bowed, cape flaring around him. "And look—here comes District 1! Oh, would you look at that! Beautiful, just beautiful, as always. The stylists have done an impeccable job this year! Perfectly luxurious for the luxury district, don't you say?"

Blue looked. Behind their snow-white horses, the District 1 tributes were clad in a feathered fuchsia ensemble that glittered beautifully in the sunlight. The pretty girl Blue had seen in the reapings sported a pink headdress that flared and pointed over her flowing raven hair, one thin shoulder left bare by her equally bright tunic. The boy wore a glistening purple suit with a furred pink cape wrapped around his shoulders. They both waved graciously at the cheering crowds.

District 2's chariot thundered out after them, a good distance behind, and Eusine's comments faded in Blue's ears as she craned her neck to watch. The district in charge of masonry and weapons was clad in bright, shiny gold, its edges sharp and lethal-looking. Circlets with sharp wings on each side adorned their heads, bringing out the curved shape of the blond boy's own hair. Gold sheets fanned out underneath from their necks to form some kind of deadly-looking tank top. The brunette girl Blue had remembered grinned viciously at the audience, baring her teeth. So she hadn't seen wrong; they really _were_ pointed like fangs.

_Gladiators_, Blue remembered suddenly, recognizing the outfits. She had read about them in school, the men from that ancient civilization who had trained to fight against animals and other men in the arena. Of course the District 2 tributes were supposed to look like them.

District 3's chariot was shiny and transparent, and the tributes seated inside echoed its design. Stripes of a glossy transparent material alternated on their bodies with strategically placed bands of hard metal that Blue suspected were real, representing the futuristic technology that the district produced with its electronics. The tributes stared out at the audience with steady, serious eyes, barren of the arrogance the first two districts had shown. It must have been bizarre to be stuck right in the middle of a bunch of Career districts, the way 3 always was, Blue thought, her stomach twisting. She could sympathize, in a way.

_What if they find out I'm not actually a Career?_ she wondered. _What will they do then?_ She wasn't sure she wanted to know.

"It's your turn," Elesa whispered in her ear as the horses gave a sudden pull, jerking her out of her thoughts. Blue could feel their muscles tensing in front of the chariot, readying themselves. Her stylist smiled at her and lifted her chin with a slender, pale finger. "Chin up, Blue. Smile. They'll love you."

Blue felt her tugging at a flap on the back of her costume, followed by a cool, pleasant sensation on the back of her neck. The mist, she realized. It was on.

The horses gave one last lurch, and the chariot rolled forward.

The Capitol buildings rose around her as they gained speed and barreled through the streets. Golden bleachers were mounted on either side of the street for the special occasion, filled with clapping and cheering Capitolites in the most brilliant and absurd of their colors. Blue made herself smile and wave at them and saw Green do the same, a cool smirk unfolding across his features.

But something was different now. She heard a gasp and a sudden hush weaving its way through the crowd, and she didn't need to turn to see that people were pointing at them and whispering to each other, almost rising out of their seats.

"What is that?"

"It's beautiful!"

"Is that…is that…_Suicune_?"

"Look at that!"

As the whispers traveled, a cheer crescendoed among the people, louder, even, than the one that had come before it. They were clapping, shouting out excitedly. Curious, Blue sneaked a glance up at the mounted screen—and almost gasped herself.

The effect was magnificent. Ribbons of white and clouds of purple mist streamed behind them, tumbling around their shoulders, swirling in the air, and leaving a trail of colorful vapor behind them. The effect was magnificent. The soft fabric of their clothes billowing in the wind made them look as if they were made of water themselves, waves rippling against their skin, and the jewels on their foreheads gleamed in the sunlight. They were surrounded by mist that caught the sunlight and reflected the gold of the buildings around them: shimmering, bright, immaterial, almost ethereal. She understood now why they called Suicune the Aurora Pokemon—it was as if rays of dawn themselves had leaned down to kiss them, as if she and Green were rising and curling up from the ocean, the entire chariot surrounded by a sea of mist.

_The girl who walked on water_, Blue remembered, breathless, and made a mental note to thank Elesa properly later.

"Oh my goodness!" Eusine Flickerman's voice shouted, breaking out of his usual smooth composure. "Oh my—oh my goodness! Everyone, it's _Suicune_! The District 4 tributes are representing Suicune! The mythical, beautiful legend of their district—oh my goodness! I can't even—Suicune—" A loud gasp blared through the loudspeakers as he struggled to catch his breath. "You don't understand, ladies and gentleman, it's been my dream to find Suicune since I was a little boy! But here—here and now—Suicune…oh, my Suicune…" He wiped tears from his eyes and sputtered, unable to go on.

"Well, that worked out oddly well," she leaned over and murmured to Green. Even he cracked a smirk.

Driven by a sudden impulse, she reached out and stretched her hand toward his. Their fingers brushed for an instant before he pulled away, shooting her a venomous glare. Undaunted, she gestured at the crowds with her other hand, smiling innocently.

"Don't you want to get sponsors?" she asked. "They'll love it."

The words registered in Green's eyes, and she saw the resigned look on his face before he spoke.

"Fine," he muttered. "But don't think this means I like you."

Blue winked. "Never said you had to."

She took his hand in hers, their fingers interlacing, and they heaved their arms in the air as the music thundered overhead.

Green's hand was warm and comfortable in hers, an odd contrast to the cool sensation of the mist spanning her neck and across her back. The people were shouting their names, which meant they had bothered to look them up in the program, and some were even flinging flowers down at them, roses and tulips and carnations sprinkling the ground. As cries of "BLUE!" and "GREEN!" echoed around her, it was hard not to feel something like triumph, like _happiness_, stirring inside her. She waved and and winked and blew kisses at them, beaming until her cheeks hurt. Even Green was waving and grinning a wide, cocky grin next to her.

"Oh, I _love_ it!" Eusine definitely sounded like he was crying now. "Two Suicunes as one! Oh, I can hardly take it! The beauty! The majesty! It's too much!" Someone handed him a tissue, and he blew his nose.

_I might actually win now_, Blue realized, excitement roaring through her veins. Elesa had given her a gift possibly even greater than all the training she could receive: she had made her unforgettable. No one would forget her, not her name or her costume. And since she was already posing as a Career… _I might see Blasty again!_

To her disappointment, the screen changed abruptly as District 5's chariot pulled out from under the arch. The camera only panned away from them for a moment to catch the tributes' costumes, which Blue had to admit were well-done, with black skintight unitards and streaks of yellow lightning that actually sparked and flickered over the suit. She noticed the red-eyed boy she had seen earlier beaming. But the audience was too enraptured in their Suicune costume to give them any special notice, as were the cameras, turning back on them as soon as they had captured an adequate shot of the power district tributes riding by.

"Aww," she murmured to Green. "I wanted to see the other outfits. Can't hog all the attention, can we?"

"It's unbelievable!" Eusine was still sniffling. He seemed to have forgotten about the rest of the districts. "Oh, it's fantastic! A Suicune costume…let's give it up for the stylists of District 4, ladies and gentlemen! Every eye on the beautiful tributes!"

"Ahem, if you'll excuse me, Mr. Flickerman," someone muttered off-screen, and Eusine dropped his tissue and snapped back to attention.

"Right, sorry!" He wiped a last tear from his eye with his sleeve. "Sorry about that! Let's get on with the ceremony, then. Er, where were we…District 6!"

Reluctantly, the cameras swung away from Blue and Green and switched into an overhead view. Blue could see all of the Capitol's ridiculous hair colors from above, along with the chariots. The audience was still going wild around them. They were almost at the City Circle now. She caught glimpses of the rest of the districts' outfits as the horses pulled them by the various screens.

District 6's tributes were riding out in a chariot that resembled a train, dark gray and polished to a gleam, with windows that opened along the sides. A huge, golden circlet that mimicked the circle of the Battle Subway station surrounded both of their heads, and on their chests was a colorful array of overlapping ribbons that Blue realized made up the map of the routes. _Clever_, she thought, and watched as the brown-haired boy reached out to grab the girl's hand and hoisted it into the air, winning a cheer from the crowd. The girl's blue eyes looked startled. _Copycats!_ Blue snorted inwardly.

As their wooden chariot rumbled by, Blue saw that District 7 had clothed its tributes in a bizarre outfit of pleated, folded white sheets that, when she looked closer, she realized were made of _paper_. An odd way to represent lumber, but she supposed it was better than forcing them to wear planks of wood.

District 8, as always, showed off its textiles in a stunning array of colors, a rainbow of the finest silks and satins that rippled arounded them, braided intricately across a shimmering cloak of white. Its chariot was covered with a layer of silk. The black-haired boy was running his fingers through his tunic as he gazed out at the crowd with what looked like a nod of approval, and the girl whose brown pigtails had been changed into braids waved and smiled cheerily at the audience.

Nestled in their woven chariot, District 9's tributes were wrapped in white, toga-like garments, with stalks of grain tucked underneath their shoulders. The blond girl's green eyes were wide with fear as she gazed out at the audience, her fingers clutching the edge of the chariot, while the boy next to her looked as dazed as he had at the reaping. Blue remembered the half-eaten cookie he had been clutching in his hand—the one the Peacekeepers had snatched from him and ground into the dirt with their boots after they led him onto the stage.

The District 10 tributes wore ranchers' outfits as usual, old-fashioned cowboy hats perched on their heads. The camera zoomed in, and Blue noticed that the boy had bright golden eyes as he tipped his hat and grinned cheekily at the audience. He shot a flirtatious wink at a group of giggling Capitol girls, and was about to toss his hat to them before his district counterpart, the girl with the huge hair, tugged on his arm and made him turn forward again. He stared at them longingly over his shoulder. He would have been cute if he had a few more years on him, Blue mused. Which he probably never would now.

She tried not to think about that, and looked up again in time to see District 11's tributes riding out from under the arch. The small blond girl with the ponytail and the green-haired boy she remembered from the reaping were clothed in tunics that looked as if they were made of shiny green leaves, circlets of bright, jeweled berries wrapped around their heads. They smiled shyly out at the audience. Blue couldn't help but smile back.

_They won't make it far,_ whispered a voice inside her that she tried to ignore.

Before she knew what was happening, a loud cheer was rising through the crowds again. Blue peered up at the screen, confused. Were the cameras focusing back on them?

Instead, what she saw was the arch by the Remake Center again, which meant that another chariot was about to emerge, except that it was now glowing, a bright glow, orange and flickering, almost as if…as if…

She gasped as the District 12 tributes burst out from underneath in their coal black chariot. They were wearing plain, black, shiny suits, but what looked like _flames_ were erupting from their shoulders, rising into the air and casting a bright orange glow on their faces. The fire—if it was fire—set off the boy's red hair nicely, now draped and slicked around his shoulders, and it reflected off the gleaming brown hair of the girl.

"Wonderful!" Eusine gasped. "This is unbelievable! The stylists have done it yet again! Ladies and gentlemen, it appears that the District 12 tributes are on _fire_! Oh, look at them! Look at it _burn_!"

The crowd was going wild again, and Blue couldn't help but feel a stab of envy. They had been just as excited about her and Green's outfits only a few minutes earlier. Would they still be able to remember them when it came time for them to sponsor a tribute or two? Either that, or…or they would just have to pick off the District 12 tributes early on, she reasoned. Before they had a chance to win any sponsors. She sized them up on screen. The girl looked smart, but scrawny enough, which made sense, seeing as they hardly had enough to eat in 12. The redhead looked like he could throw a few punches—at least, he looked angry enough—but he was even smaller and skinnier than his partner.

Shame slapped her in the gut, hard. _How are you thinking like this already?_ she scolded herself, feeling sick at what she had been thinking only a moment ago. _Planning who to kill, and when?_

_You're thinking like a Career_, another voice inside her brain retorted grimly. _Which you should be. It's about time_.

The Capitol's shouts sounded distant now, as Blue and Green approached the final circuit around the City Circle, which housed the richest and most prestigious Capitol folk. District 1 had already reached the head of the Circle, stopping underneath the balcony of President Harmonia's mansion where he gave the official welcome to the tributes every year. Blue was curious about what he would have to say _this_ year.

"And last but most _certainly_ not least…" Eusine's voice rose dramatically, over even the Capitol's cheering. Blue felt a pang of satisfaction at the fact that the audience had cheered much longer for her and Green than they had for the fire costumes of District 12. "We have Tribute Number Twenty-Five of the Capitol itself—_N Harmonia_!"

All of the tributes looked up as a thirteenth chariot came roaring out from under the arch, led by two pale gray horses, their backs draped with a cloth patterned the same way as President Harmonia's cape where the other horses had been bare. The music swelled again, trumpets blaring to their loudest. The Capitol's chariot was almost blinding in the sunlight, both with the pure gold it was built from, but also with the same eye designs that the president wore, engraved into its surface in brilliant purples and speckled with red gems. The signature crest of Panem finished off the front, the blue P sparkling in what Blue could only guess was a line of sapphires, melted together.

Inside sat N Harmonia, alone, his pale fingers gripping the edge so tightly that all the color had drained from them, in the most bizarre outfit of all. He seemed to have been split completely in half, one side dressed in almost blinding white, with undertones of soft orange, the other in the darkest black Blue had ever seen, crackling with glints of blue. A wing sprouted from each side of his body in its corresponding color, though the wings looked slightly different, she noticed, if you squinted; the white one sprouted four points at the very tip. His hair had been dyed the colors of each side, flaring out behind him like a mane. Weirdest of all, it seemed almost as if two halves of a tail were sprouting behind him—one like the back of a Beedrill on the black side, the other with white spirals looping around it. A wisp of white, feathery material, like a flame, plumed from the tip.

On his head perched a golden crown.

"And what's _he_ supposed to represent?" Blue heard the District 3 boy in front of her mutter.

Instead of cheering, the crowd had quieted, as if even they didn't know what to make of his outfit. A haze of confusion hung over the city, though the anthem kept playing. Even Eusine Flickerman didn't seem to know what to say.

"Wow, beautiful! Simply beautiful! The chariot…President Harmonia's designs…and N…well…you can't say that the stylist didn't have a unique idea, eh?" he managed to choke out with a laugh, and then someone leaned in on screen and whispered something Blue could just barely catch over the speakers:

"Fool, President Harmonia designed it himself."

Muted, scattered gasps rose in the crowd and then quieted again, whispers spreading through like ripples.

"Um—yes!" Eusine blinked and adjusted his bow tie, struggling to regain his composure. "Yes, of course! One can tell by how utterly _magnificent_ it is. Let's give it up for N Harmonia, our courageous tribute of the Capitol, everyone, and for the _phenomenal_ costumes all around!" He looked relieved as applause rang out from the crowds. "Phenomenal! Absolutely phenomenal! This will be an _extraordinary_ year, I can already tell. I don't know about you, ladies and gentlemen, but _I'm_ certainly pumped up for the Games!" He grinned, flashing those shell-white teeth. "This has been Eusine Flickerman with you here in the Capitol, covering the seventy-fourth annual Hungry Pokemon Games! May the odds be ever in your favor!" With his familiar annual closing, he bowed one last time, and the screen cut out.

Blue wondered if part of the job requirements entailed the extensive memorization of a thesaurus.

The chariots were pulling into the loop of the City Circle now, the horses slowing to a halt as they filled the loop all the way around. The music ended with a flourish, and on cue, President Harmonia stepped out onto his balcony, cape swirling around him.

"Tributes of Panem!" he announced in a hearty voice, spreading his arms wide toward the city. He stared straight down and simpered lovingly at N. "My son."

N shrank back, and Blue saw his lips tremble from across the circle in what she guessed was a whisper of "Father."

If she had been expecting anything different from Ghetsis's welcome this year, he didn't deliver. He gave the same exclamation of "Happy Hungry Pokemon Games!" and "May the odds be _ever_ in your favor!" that he always did, and even the same "This will be a very special year. I'm hoping you're all looking forward to the Games as much as I am—oh, wait, don't say it, I _know_ you all are." That always won a few cheap laughs from the audience—though Blue suspected that this year, he might really mean those words.

The chariots paraded around the circle one last time after his speech, as was customary, and then they disappeared into the gaping mouth of the Training Center.

Blue breathed a sigh of relief as soon as the doors shut behind them, relaxing her shoulders. She cracked her neck and ran a hand over her stiffened muscles. "What was that costume?" the tributes were muttering around her as their stylists approached and helped them dismount from the chariots, fixing their costumes and congratulating them on their performance during the ceremony. She heard the slow clack of high heels and loud, flamboyant chatter, and lo and behold, their stylists approached.

"You did great," Elesa whispered, flashing her a warm, genuine smile as she tugged on the back of Blue's shirt again, turning off the mist. "Congratulations. Now they'll never forget you."

"You rocked that costume, girl!" Burgh exclaimed as he did the same to Green. "And you too, boy who walked on water."

How was N getting out of his costume, Blue wondered as smoothed down the diamond-spotted front of her shirt? She resisted the urge to turn around, and caught the sight of a man in a brown hood heading back to help him out. A moment later, she swore she heard a petulant voice whining, "I don't need your help! I'm king!" and a calm one with an accent she didn't recognize answering, "Yes, and that is why we must attend to your needs, my lord." But that had to be her imagination.

The boy in front her, the one with the glasses, turned toward the blue-pigtailed girl from his district again. "What _was_ that costume supposed to be?" he asked impatiently, after checking over his shoulder to make sure N couldn't hear.

"I know what it is."

Blue turned at the voice behind her, surprised.

The boy from District 6, the one with the tufts of brown hair and spacey brown eyes, had stepped forward, his shoulders shaking. The tributes all turned to stare at him. Blue raised an eyebrow, impressed. Frankly, she wouldn't have thought he had it in him.

"That's—that's the legend of Zekrom and Reshiram." He licked his lips, suddenly looking nervous under the glare of the other tributes, brown eyes darting from one side to the other. "I-I just mean…m-m-my mom used to read it to me before I went to bed. You know…the fire and electric dragons? The Tao Trio? The Heroes of Truth and Ideals?" He looked from one face to another, but was met with nothing but blank stares. Blue sneaked a glance at Green; even he looked at a loss, though his brow was furrowed in thought.

Then the girl from his district lifted a hand next to him. "I've heard of it," she said quietly.

The boy looked relieved, shooting her a grateful smile. "Th-thanks, White," he stammered, and then turned back to the others with an apologetic smile and a shrug. "Never mind, I guess it's just a District 6 thing, then. But I know that…that's what he's supposed to represent."

There was a pause, and then the blond boy from District 2 took a step forward, stomping his foot against the ground.

"Well, tell us the story, then, will you?" he demanded loudly.

"O-okay," the boy stammered, shrinking back and hiding his face behind the golden circle that surrounded his head. Blue could tell he was regretting ever opening his mouth. "Right. Sorry. I will."

It was never a good idea to refuse a District 2 tribute, so he took a deep breath, still shaking, and plunged ahead.

"Um…so…it's just an old legend, of course, and no one really takes it seriously…but the way it goes, a long time ago, there was a really powerful dragon Pokemon that these twin heroes used to create the land of Panem. And it came from District 6." He shrugged, an apologetic grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "That's how the story goes, anyway. But anyway, the two brothers started to argue, because they were looking for different things in life…the older one wanted to find truth, and the younger one wanted to find ideals."

As he went on, his shoulders straightened, and his voice grew less shaky, ringing out more clearly. "So the brothers started arguing and fighting with each other over who was right, whether truth or ideals was better, and in the end, the dragon—I guess it got so fed up with them that it split in two, and those two halves became Zekrom and Reshiram." He paused, letting his words sink in. "Zekrom was black, with blue lightning, and Reshiram was white, with orange fire. Reshiram sided with the older brother, with truth, and Zekrom sided with the younger one, who liked ideals more. So the two brothers battled with the dragons, but they were equally matched, so neither of them won. They set aside their differences and decided to stop fighting about it, but then after they died, their sons took up the argument again, and they _didn't_ stop fighting…so Reshiram and Zekrom destroyed Panem with their fire and lightning powers. And…and then they disappeared."

A befuddled silence hung over the tributes when he finished. The boy took a step back and shrugged again, this time more defensively. "It's just a story."

No one said anything, but as he slid back in line next to her, the girl from his district leaned over and gave him an encouraging smile, her long, curly ponytail brushing against his arm.

Seconds that felt like minutes ticked by before the District 1 girl spoke up.

"Why would President Harmonia dress up his son like some old District 6 legend?" she asked.

The boy shrugged, casting a cautious glance over his shoulder. Luckily, N was a safe distance away, still being fussed over by the weird man in the brown cloak by his chariot. From where Blue was standing, it looked like he was pouting, his lower lip sticking out.

"I…I don't know," the District 6 boy said. "But all I'm saying is…I can tell that that's what the costume is supposed to represent."

The girl stared at him for a moment with her heavily-lidded eyes, a hazy, elegant shade of silvery-gold. "Well, I still don't see why," she said haughtily, brushing her raven-blue hair over her shoulder before she turned around again.

"You better not be making this up," the District 2 boy warned. The District 6 boy shrank back, nodding furiously and whimpering something unintelligible back.

But Blue wasn't thinking about what N was wearing, or why Ghetsis himself had bothered to dress him up in such a costume. Something else was bothering her.

The end of the story the District 6 boy had told…Reshiram and Zekrom fighting, the _brothers_ fighting, and destroying the country with their powers…something about it sounded oddly familiar. Even though she hardly ever paid attention nowadays, after hearing it so many times in a row, she remembered the speech that the mayor gave every year at the reaping. The Dark Days. The days when the districts had rebelled and destroyed Panem with their own powers. The days that had made the Hungry Pokemon Games a necessity, or so the Capitol claimed. Something about it sounded so oddly familiar.

The legend of Zekrom and Reshiram. N's costume. What Volkner had said on the train, about Ghetsis Harmonia wanting to kill his son. And poor N who sat in the chariot now, draped in black and white, alone and terrified and utterly unprepared for what was going to happen to him, laid out before the Capitol, his home, like some kind of sacrifice.

She frowned, tugging at the hem of her skirt. All of a sudden, the soft fabric didn't feel so silky against her skin.

What did it all mean?

She cast another look at the District 6 boy, whose chin was now tucked as deep into his chest as it would go, and the girl next to him—White, she remembered—the one who had heard the legend, too. She was staring at him with wide, concerned blue eyes, biting her lip in thought. Clearly neither of them wanted to talk anymore.

Frowning, Blue turned and looked up at Green. Even if they didn't have the answers, maybe he did. His grandfather _was_ Mayor Oak, after all.

"What do you think—" she started.

For once, he didn't scoff or glare at her. "I don't know," he answered before she even finished the question, green eyes narrowed in thought. "I really don't know."

_Something strange is going on_, his eyes told her, and Blue agreed.


End file.
